


Ghost's of the Past

by Bluepaw265



Series: Who we really are [1]
Category: Call of Duty (Video Games), Call of Duty: Ghosts - Fandom
Genre: Action, Adventure, Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Amnesia, Anger, Angst, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Call of Duty: Ghosts, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Confused Logan, Confusion, Dark Logan, Fear, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Have fun with depressing scenes, Hesh and Logan feels, Hurt/Comfort, I guess you could classify this as drama, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Logan is fucked up, Loneliness, Lots of Angst, Mental Breakdown, Multiple Personalities, Near Death Experiences, Out of Character?, Panic Attacks, Schizophrenia, Secrets, Self-Doubt, Some Humor, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2018-09-19 00:18:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 90,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9408971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluepaw265/pseuds/Bluepaw265
Summary: Logan Walker is a changed man. Chained down under Rorke's imprisonment, he's lost the part of what make people who they are: his memories.Lost and honestly trying to get a grip on everything happening around him (and everything in his head, because a darkness is resurfacing and damn, he doesn't want to let it lose), Logan must choose between the Ghosts and the Federation, before it's chosen for him."I don't know what to do - who to choose. Rorke, the Ghost Killer who killed my father (a ghost, he reasons), or the Ghosts, people who have been dodging my questions and lying to me this whole damn time."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ~ This book has been posted on Fanfiction.net. It is the first of a trilogy and will have two books continuing on it after said trilogy. (This is not my first work. I've published works before on Fanfiction.net and it has improved my writing to where it is now.) ~  
> I haven't tried this website before, so any tips on anything would be great.  
> Well, I hope you guys enjoy this. I enjoy writing it, so I'm just hoping this is good enough for you guys.

**_ Chapter 1: _ **

Logan Walker sat with his head against the rock wall of his prison, eyes closed as he tried to channel the pain coming out of his stomach; something he had come to know very well for the last few months: poison. It made him so sick that he had to vomit every ten minutes, but that wasn’t all.

He could feel it doing something to him, shaping him into something he didn’t want to think about.

He coughed up some more of the venom, too weak to get up and do it anywhere except for the place he was sitting next to. He groaned, trying to remember the last time he had felt so….sick and….helpless.

Sick; no, this was the worst. Helpless….he could remember something he refused to forget. His father’s murder. He would never forget that, how that _bastard_ made him shoot him twice before he killed him right in front of him…. of _them_.

_Hesh…_ He couldn’t forget how he was taken away from his brother on the beach that day, either. But this memory….it wasn’t as secure as the murder. Yes, it was something he thought about every day. Yes, it was the thing he cried about some nights when he felt so lonely. But every time he woke up, he felt like some minor detail was missing; like how he swore half of his big brother’s face was covered in face paint, and how he swore there were three explosions; not two. Whatever the case, he knew the poison was doing its work: twisting his memories into something else, trying to get his mind set on something else.

And he was not going to let that happen.

He had decided that point to what seemed like so long ago, and had done something about it; something people might classify as crazy.

He’d used the blood from his cuts, bruises and bullet wounds and written words on the cave walls. They all said different things, like his name, his true team, and that he wouldn’t break.

At least the last would stay true.

He’d put the writing in a remote spot so the people that came in here wouldn’t see them, but so far, he’d had to rewritten it twice.

And really, he wasn’t sure if he had the strength to do it another time if it presented itself.

Logan thought of his team: Ghost’s. His farther had said a Ghost never breaks, but Rorke is living proof that that isn’t entirely true, which didn’t ease the uneasiness and doubt deep in his mind, pushed deeper back than people would think humanely possible.

He coughed again, the cough turning into a fit before he chucked up what you would call ‘food’ yet again, some of the stuff getting onto his ripped military pants. The ‘food’ that they gave him was barely anything: just four stale biscuits that he knew had the poison his farther had told him about. He tried not to eat them – hell, he did, he survived what he thought to be _five days_ before he ate the disgusting things – and when he did – _god_ , did he regret it. The effects were almost immediate, only taking a few minutes before the effects came into effect. The effects: terrible, terrible headaches, vomiting, stomach aches, and memory loss – at least, he thought so. Whatever the case, it was defiantly doing some damage.

He groaned, feeling pain from a previous beating enter his system through the venerable cracks, taking any chance to get in and do some damage. The beatings were becoming worse, using tranquilisers, guns, and slow – _so damn slow_ – knife techniques that would leave any man screaming his lungs out. He was no exception. Though he screamed, he tried to keep it in him. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t – really, it depended on the location and technique used to get it out of him. He’d had the knife getting into his stomach when he refused to answer questions, a bullet in his leg or arm when he refused to listen, and a tranquiliser when they were done or wanted to hear him scream. If they were really mean, after having a bullet in his body, they would use the knife technique in there, which hurt like a bitch. Only once had he got a bullet in the stomach with the knife used in there, but he would always have the worst wounds patched up and the smaller – sometimes dangerous and/or still bleeding – wounds for him to take care of. Lately they were inflicting worse and making him patch them up – meaning using his shirt and pants as the bandages – which only made this hell hole worse.

He swore the maniac’s that tortured him loved harming him, but he wasn’t sure if they were the ones screaming in delight, or if it was just his imagination. Whatever the case, it wasn’t his problem and never would be….at least he _hoped_ not.

Logan looked up instead of down, trying to see the stars from the trees that blocked his gaze.

_Stars, they always seem to calm me down, make me feel like I’m not alone. I know I’ve always liked my own company, but since the war, I’ve always wanted Hesh by my side, and now that he’s not here, it just feels….odd. I don’t know, it’s like the stars remind me of him. And even if I’m beyond hell, losing some memories, and slowly, so damn slowly, sinking below the depth to get up, I won’t lose hope. I won’t ever forget you Hesh….David…._

Logan closed his eyes, suddenly feeling dizzy and tired before falling into a deep sleep.

_I won’t ever forget you, no matter what._

/// //// //// //// ///

**_Logan Walker_ **

/// //// //// //// ///

**~Time passed: Unknown~**

_Time: Err….Midday….ish?_

_Location: Unknown – nothing I can do about that, the fuckers._

_Age: 20….something?_

_Family: Err….Someone….God, I know there’s someone…. Hesh! That’s right!_

_Name: Logan….Logan….shit, that’s gone too. It started with a W, I swear…._

_Weapons: Nothing except for my hands…not great odds against men with guns, knives and tranquilisers._

_Mental State: Where did that come from? Err…. Not great? How the fuck am I supposed to know?_

_Great job, now you’re questioning yourself. This is your body after all, you’re supposed to know!_ Logan groaned as his mind yelled at him for being stupid yet again.

_Can you shut the fuck up for once?_ He yelled back, and for once the second voice shut down, along with the orders to do the check-up.

_What was I doing?_ It took him a moment to catch back on to what he was doing. _Oh yeah, checking what I know. Is it good, what I know? Defiantly not. Poison’s doing its work._ He sighed, leaning up against the wall, trying to ignore the biscuits in front of him.

He still had no idea how long he had been here for. Weeks? Months? Years? Time was blending together, and through the days were getting worse, he forced himself to keep up with it. His captors didn’t bandage his wounds anymore, leaving him to try to stay alive in the pit. He wasn’t sure what he was fighting for, but whenever he thought about giving up, a memory – no, a voice – told him to keep going, that he needed to see him one more time. He wasn’t sure whose voice it was, but it was so familiar…

Whenever he felt like he was going to break under the pressure, a voice came to him.

_“We’re Ghosts. Ghosts don’t break.”_ He recognised the voice, but couldn’t put a face to it, like all of the other memories he was facing. And Ghosts? That word….it felt like it had so much more meaning than just the term….

_Ah! How could I forget! I am a Ghost! What….This drug is slowly taking everything away….well, that’s a lie,_ he thought. Everything except one thing: a memory so deep and emotional he just refused to forget any detail of it.

His father’s death.

The tortures, the poison, it wasn’t doing anything to the detail, the truth of the matter so far drilled into him that it just wouldn’t go away or let some drug effect it.

He replayed the scene in his head, how four men were in the room, including his captor. How after shooting him to get answers out of his farther, he tried to risk his life to save him. How he’d only made the matter worse, the man overpowering him and making him shoot his farther twice before chucking him to the floor, his farther in tow. How his farther told him he was proud of him and Hesh. How Hesh was screaming at their captor not to kill their farther as he told Elias that he wasn’t a Ghost, only the one that kills them. And then how the gun Rorke held went off, spraying his blood all over him and every other object in a five metre radius.

It hurt to go over, but every time he did, it reminded him of Hesh and how his farther told him he was proud of what he had achieved; what he had become. It made him proud, but soon….oh, soon he knew he wouldn’t recognise the man that was tied to the seat next to his farther, and it only scared him.

Logan closed his eyes in pain, feeling his stomach growl and injuries protest in their dull ache. _Ignore it; you’re getting good at that._ And it wasn’t a lie. He was able to get into his own bubble when handling pain, when he was so deep in his thoughts that even his torturers couldn’t get him to snap out of it until they were moving. But of course, they knew how to get him out of it. The tranquiliser had another use to them: to pop his bubble and inflict pain that could get to him anywhere.

He stopped thinking about it, but wasn’t allowed to stay in his thoughts long before the door to the right opened, making his mask come on – a blank face, full of none of the emotions or pain he was going through.

One of the two torturers – yes, they took turns – walked around the corner and stared at him for a moment – machine gun in hand. The white man with short brown hair and wore the usual Federation uniform smiled a creepy smile, one that made him certain he was a little crazy – like something had taken him over the edge, which he was sure something had.

“Hello, Logan. Back for another round of ‘tell the secrets’, eh? You’re not quite done yet, and you’re not getting out of the pain as easily as last time.” The manic walked towards him, not caring that he stepped on the poisoned food, and grabbed him by the shoulder, Logan knowing he wouldn’t be able to get away from the dangerous torturer in his state.

The man got him to his feet before slamming him against the wall he had been leaning against a moment before, wincing as he put restraints firmly on his still-healing injuries. _Knowing the bastard, he probably meant it!_ Logan thought, but made no attempt to get away as a hand was placed firmly on the nerve at the back of his neck and the AK-12 getting pushed into his head.

“As always, don’t struggle or I might accidently pull the trigger like last time, little Logan. Maybe I’ll go for the knee cap this time, eh?” The man pushed him forward, sending him stumbling a bit before he regained his footing and walked out of the pit.

It was true. He had struggled last time, but he quickly learned not to, as he had gotten a bullet in the leg. The wound had been secured in his army pants, which were slowly becoming shorter and shorter. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, but whenever he let down his walls it hurt like a bitch.

He looked around like he always did, his instincts always to see if there was anything new in this hell. Nothing new, only the silver walls and the occasional door, which was almost never.

They made a stop at a door marked: ‘No. 22’, something Logan didn’t think he needed to know, but made himself memorise anyway.

Someone opened it from the inside and the two entered the all-too-familiar metal room that had chains falling from the ceiling in the middle of the room, a chair at the far left corner and a camera to his right, showing everything that went on in the room, which only consisted of his torture, sometimes for information he wasn’t sure he had, and sometimes to make him break. As to what it was today, he wasn’t sure. Normally when it was an interrogation, he sat in the chair and got electrocuted more than stabbed or shot together. When they tried to break him, he was held by the chains and beaten, normally with their fists, but sometimes with their knives and the occasional bullet. One of his ribs protested form an earlier beating to break him, and even though it hurt, he wasn’t going to let it get to him.

The guard that opened the door left the room in a hurry and shut the door, Logan knowing some of the guards from the Federation were scared of the man he was with, which didn’t make him feel any better.

His captor led him over to the chair, taking off his restraints before tying him to the chair’s arms and legs.

_Interrogation. Great, now I’m going to be coughing up blood later today. That’s just great._ He thought sarcastically, letting his thoughts go dark for a moment, before falling back into his bubble.

Nothing would get to him today.

His interrogator started pacing in front of him, carrying the short yet sharp blade of a knife.

“Your full name?”

Normally, the first part was easy. He said his name, age, and if he had family. Normally, it was easy. But today, it was going to cost him dearly.

“Logan W.” He managed to get out, lack of water making his voice crack.

His interrogator stopped pacing and walked toward him. “Full name.” He repeated, starting to smirk.

As to why, he didn’t know.

_Shit, why do I have to do this!_ He cursed, before thinking desperately. _Logan W…..W…..Fucking hell, I can’t do this._

He growled before spilling. “Logan W. That’s all I know.”

The man’s reaction wasn’t great for Logan, the man smirking before leaning forward, mouth next to his ear.

“That’s your first time failing the first question. Looks like you don’t have much time left, little Logan.” The man’s voice creeped him out a little, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it before the knife was stabbed into his leg.

Logan gritted his teeth, the danger coming a bit sudden for his liking.

“Age.”

_Damn,_ he thought, trying to stop from crying out as his captor put a firm hand on the grip of the knife, blood flowing out of the wound.

He waited, thinking some more. _I know I’m 20-something, so I can’t really do anything about it. Just guess, that’s all you can do._

“26.” He grunted, wincing as he dug the knife deeper into the wound.

His captor frowned before putting his creepy smile back on.

“Correct, but I know you guessed.”

_Shit, here it comes._ He thought, before the man twisted the knife in the wound, making him squeeze his eyes shut and bit the inside of the mouth so hard it bled. _Keep it out, keep it out, keep it out. Focus the pain on something else, focus on something else._

His torturer must have seen his face, because he laughed a crooked, crazy laugh. “Looks like you can’t get into that bubble today, little Logan. That’s why you’re going to suffer.” He twisted it some more, making Logan cry out. “Ah, there it is, the long lost cries of little Logan. I’ve been missing those.”

He kept going until it had been the whole way around, the wound chucking out blood. “He-he, that’s something you’re going to have to deal with later.”

The next question came in a flash.

“Any family?” The man started to take the knife out, making any thoughts he was trying to make disappear.

“Yeah,” He mumbled, trying to block out the pain. “Brother and dead farther.” He gasped as his interrogator ripped out the knife before wiping the blade, placing it back on his belt and grabbing the tranquiliser.

“Their names?”

_Shit,_ he thought, _I’m screwed._

He only knew his brother’s code name, not his real name. He knew his dad’s real name, but not their last names. _Just go with it, he might pass it by._

“Hesh and Elias.” The tranquiliser was on his ribs in a flash, the electricity and a never-ending pain going through his body.

“His real name.” The man growled, obviously knowing his brothers real name.

_Shit,_ he thought, trying to get the electricity out of his system. _Just tell the truth._

“Don’t know.” He mumbled, locking the man with a glare that would make a normal person wet their pants.

But this man wasn’t normal.  

The man hit him with the tranquiliser again, making him squeeze his eyes shut. _Think of dad, think of dad._ It worked, his hate blocked out the pain going through him at what had been agonising speeds.

“Ah, looks like you’ve got the wall up again. Now to break it.” The man hit him with another burst of electricity, but Logan only stared at the ground, immersed in his hate towards Rorke for killing his farther and all of the other shit the fucker had put him and his family through.

“Hmm….The barrier’s grounded. Should I break it? Should I destroy it? It’s your decision, little Logan.” The man circled him, Logan falling out of his thoughts to glare at him again. “Good, looks like you made the right decision.” For once, he didn’t hit him with anything, and right after that thought crossed his mind the next question popped up.

“What team are you on?” The man pulled out his knife again, making him wince. This was going to hurt like a bitch.

“Ghosts. Federation are a bunch of-” Logan grunted as the knife started to slice his arm. “Motherfuckers.” He managed to finish, wincing when the cut went deeper as he finished, obviously hitting a mark for his torturer.

“You’re going to regret finishing that, little Logan.” And soon he was getting cuts of various sizes everywhere, including in the one on his leg, which made him cry out. “He-he, looks like I can use that, hey, little Logan?”

That nickname was starting to piss him off, but he didn’t say anything about it. As he was tortured with more and more questions being asked, some he knew, others he had no memory of, he started to think of how he would get out of this.

_The Ghosts are looking for me, but with all of the time that’s passed, have they given up? I mean, Hesh wouldn’t stop until he found me but….no, stay strong, you need to keep up and take as many hits as you can; you’re going to need it._

Suddenly the door opened, and in came the one man he knew he would hate for the rest of his life.

_Rorke._

The man must have noticed his glare, for he walked in and grinned at him.

“You’ve been down here quite long, Logan. Do you count the days?” He asked him, actually looking for an answer.

Logan’s anger and rage was trying to break the wall that he was trying to hold, trying to contain himself from bursting out. _No, you motherfucker. Time is kind of slow. How about you? Not getting any poison in your food, memories getting lost? No? Well that’s what I’m going through, you dick._

Taking his silence as an answer, Rorke continued. “I guess not. But I’ll tell you how long: seven months. Seven months of torture, food poisoning, and memory loss. You are doing well, really well. Did you know I lasted a little longer than you have? Well, if I’m strong and could only last fifteen months, then how strong will you be when you’ve finished the process and are longer than me? Let me tell you – too damn strong to fall into your team’s hands.” The man paced, Logan not missing the glint of something shiny in his hand. “Like I told you before you fell out of your plane, there’s always room for one more, and I’m willing to take you under my wing. No, I’m going to do that. So just give up, I’m going to have you one way or another.”

Logan felt his anger rise, but he kept it down, trying to keep his face blank.

“So, will you choose the easy way, or the hard way?” He paused, looking intently at him. “Of course, I already know your answer.”

The next thing he knew, a needle was sticking out of his arm, a yellow liquid getting squeezed into his blood.

Logan felt everything freeze, his mind, his resistance, his body – everything except for his mouth.

And the wall that just toppled over.

“I’m going to KILL you, you son of a bitch! You took my farther away from me, and me away from my brother, all because of some urge to kill the Ghosts that made you the monster you are! You’re everything I hate, and I will never work beside the likes of you!” He yelled, almost screaming his rage into his captor’s face.

Rorke frowned, staring at his face as he took in deep breaths to calm himself down, staring to feel slightly drowsy.

“Your bubble just popped then, Logan. That’s a crack I inflicted and is slowly starting to spread. It’s only a matter of time before I break you, and when I do, you’ll be begging me to help you kill the Ghosts.” The man leaned in close, before whispering into his ear, “It’s only a matter of time.”

Before Logan could process what was happening, then man was gone, out of the door before he could blink.

That was when he realised it wasn’t the man’s speed, it was the drug making everything seem slower than they really were. Logan felt his breathing shallow and muscles tighten as his torturer leaned in close, grinning like a manic.

“Well, it looks like this sessions up, little Logan. Be sure to dream of me.” The man’s voice echoed in his mind, making him grit his teeth in pain as it got louder and louder.

Slowly, darkness filled his vision, and as he entered the dream world, he didn’t find it strange how he was dreaming about his hell, but how he was actually dreaming about the man that had been in front of him seconds before.


	2. Chapter 2

**_ Chapter 2: _ **

_Torture._ In one word, he could describe it as many things, but one always seemed to stand out.

_Hell._ He was in and _beyond_ hell. He knew that. If hell was getting beaten daily, eating poisoned food, and losing memories, then he knew he was well past home.

That wasn’t all he was thinking about. His mind kept going to Rorke’s words, telling him to give up; that it’s only a matter of time.

_“It’s only a matter of time before I break you.”_

_He’s right, you know._ A voice made its way inside his mind in his moment of weakness. _You are going to break sooner or later. You might as well give up before you’re beyond recognition._

Logan Walker frowned, wincing as he tried to stand, only to fail as pain raced up his leg. The terrible knife wound had effected his walking skills greatly. Even though they actually had the curtsey to stich it up, he couldn’t stand or he would reopen the stiches, an experience he didn’t want to repeat.

He was lucky; none of his other wounds were bleeding, even if they hurt like the suckers they are when the rain hit them.

_Water, salt and alcohol. A healing wounds worst enemy._ He thought. _Always making the victim hurt. Maybe that’s why they made me able to see outside; more pain for the prisoner._

Logan stopped thinking about stuff that wouldn’t help him and focused on something he had to decide.

_So, I can endure pain beyond anything I can imagine, – though, I think I can now that I’m here – or I can give in and go with their plans. Urrgh….I’m not going to betray my team, nor do I want to go through more of this pain….Why do things have to be so….Wait a second._ A thought so brilliant hit his mind, and Logan actually _grinned_. _What if I make another me, like, make a mask so I appear dead, but on the inside I’m actually myself? He nodded to himself. It sounds like the only good idea to escape, but….They’re a lot of things that could go wrong._

_So, one thing could be them putting me in a position where I wouldn’t be able to do it, like killing Hesh or one of the Ghosts._

_I could get found after I escape – something I really, really don’t want to happen – or get hurt while trying to do that….none sound too appealing._

_I could get consumed by my fake identity and have it blend into the other, making me someone like I once was, but not completely the same._

_Or, I could stay put until he actually breaks me and makes me his slave. That I would hate to become._

Logan nodded to himself.

_Well, I guess that’s settled then. But I’m going to have to go slow with this. Every day, I will slowly make myself a little darker until finally Rorke finds me as ready to fight for him. Who knows, if this works I might get some Intel on where the others are. But this will be slow and will make me lose more memories…._ Logan winced, already knowing what that was like. _But it’s a risk I’m willing to take to ensure reuniting with my brother….._

_Even if I lose myself in the process._

/// //// //// //// ///

**_Logan Walker_ **

/// //// //// //// ///

**~Time Passed: Unknown~**

Logan had pushed himself up against the wall, sending insults at the torturer in front of him. “Get the _fuck_ away from me you motherfucker.”

_Hostile; appear hostile._

It seemed to be working, making the black man with light brown hair back off. “You never told me he was this bad, Sam.” The man muttered, Logan hearing his words.

_Sam, the other torturers name is Sam._ The man wouldn’t know how great that was for him to hear. He wanted to kill these bitches when he got out, and oh, now the crazy man wouldn’t be able to get away from him. _Heh, that guy is so dead when I get to him._

The man must have heard something into the com, for he started to come closer.

_Hostile; go hostile._

“Fuck off you son of a bitch! You’re not going to touch me this time!” He hissed at the man, making him stop in his tracks.

“Err….I think I’m going to need help here.” The man waited, Logan still shouting all the insults he could think of before scooping up his poisoned food and chucking them at him, one getting him in the eye. “Ow! Please, be quick with that backup!”

The man had a right to be scared. The last time he brought backup, he broke one of their arms. He had had a gun to his head, but he decided being reckless would let the time go better. Even though it cost him in the torture, he felt like he had been one more step towards his goal.

The afternoon sun cast a shadow that took most of the pit with it, only leaving the east side of the pit in the orange glow of the sun. He took the information with open arms, knowing that even if it wasn’t great information, he would take it nonetheless.

The backup arrived swiftly, holding their AK-12’s like their life depended on it.

Logan grinned. _Heh, looks like I’ve scared the shit out of them. It’s only a matter of time._ “Fuck off, dickheads, or I’ll break your arms.” That made them freeze, and Logan’s grin widened.

_The idiots. They have the upper hand in this. If I had a decently smart guard, I would be shot already and on my way to torture – most likely a beating._ It was true, interrogations had been getting scarcer and scarcer as time went on, obviously not wanting to stir up any memories that might lay dormant – basically most of them, in Logan’s eyes. He couldn’t remember which side he’s on, if he has family, and if he was P.O.W or these guys were trying to brainwash him. At least he still knew his first name, even if the second had been covered in dust.

But the image of his dad’s murder still lay fresh in his mind, and even if he didn’t recognise the man in the chair next to him, he knew he couldn’t trust the man who had taken his life.

He went back to tormenting and threatening them with threats he actually could do if he got close enough. It worked, making them ask stuff into their earpiece that he couldn’t hear over his yelling and carrying on.

Next thing he knew, the door was opening and in came the man who he hated more than anyone in the world.

Rorke, the man that killed his farther and was trying to destroy his life. He stood next to the guards, taking the gun off the nearest one.

His fake personality dropped a bit. _Shit, he’s a smart one. He’s going to do something here that’ll hurt me._ Then he put up the mask and kept up with the insults and threats he knew he couldn’t keep now Rorke was there. _I know I’m screwed right now, but I’m not going to let them realise I’m faking it._

Even if he’d held the personality for a while, slowly making it worse as the days went on, he couldn’t stop it now.

If he did, they would know he’s a very good actor. Something he thanked his Drama teacher for.

“Stay back you fuckers, or I’ll make you regret it!” He yelled. “I’ll break your legs and make you wish you were never born!”

Rorke actually smiled, pointing the gun away from him.

“Ok then, Logan. I’ll leave you alone if you can answer one question. Which side are you on?” It was a question even he wasn’t sure of, and he felt himself falter.

Logan thought long and hard, not missing a beat when one of the guards took a step forward. He sent a death glare, certain he had made the guy shit himself.

_I know I’m not on this side; if I was, I wouldn’t be getting tortured for information, hell, tortured at all. I don’t know the other side of the war, what their name is I probably had known. But if I helped them? No clue. But if this man killed my dad, then I’m certain he was on the opposing side. I just need to figure out if I’m on their side, or both. God, why did they have to do this to me?_

Logan went with the only answer he could give.

“I don’t know.” It was so truthful that it shut his anger down, making him look like he had lost apart if himself. “I don’t know a lot of things.”

Rorke looked hopeful for a second before cutting it off, putting on a blank face like Logan had done a second before. “What things?” He pressed, treading lightly.

“Full name, family….if I’m even on a team….what I’m even doing here….God…Almost everything.” He said truthfully, trying to get him on his side.

He knew he was giving up valuable information, but he could feel how close he was.

And he wasn’t going to back down.

“What do you remember?” Rorke asked, actually looking curious.

Logan almost laughed. _Oh, just you killing my dad. You know, nothing serious._

“Nothing useful. Just bits and pieces of places I don’t recognise or even understand.” He half lied, telling some truth but leaving some out.

Rorke smirked.

“Do you know what you are?”

Logan knew what he was, but he couldn’t help but notice he had gone three questions over the limit. _I’m a solider, and I know I’m a damn good one at that._

“I’m a solider,” he stared right into Rorke’s gaze. “And probably a darn good one if you’re looking at me like that.”

Rorke grinned, placing the gun on his back and walking over to him, holding out a hand.

Logan took his hand, getting to his feet and was soon shaking his hand.

“Welcome to the team, Logan.” Rorke whispered into his ear, and he could only think one thing as he stared into his eyes.

_Over my dead body._

/// //// //// //// ///

**_Logan Walker_ **

/// //// //// //// ////

**~Time Passed: One month~**

“Logan, Rorke wants to see you in his office in five minutes. You know how he gets if you don’t get there on time.” A guard yelled into his room before his footsteps left the hall.

Logan sighed. It had been the fourth time this week Rorke had wanted him in his office, and it was really starting to annoy him. Even though he keep saying something about his final test coming up, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy about the whole thing.

Despite his feelings, Logan found he had gotten into his fake personality fine. He was grumpy, didn’t talk to anyone, and tried to stay in a room alone. He didn’t have any friends, nor did he want any. If they found out his secret, they would spill and he would be right back where he started.

Over the month, he had been going the usual Federation routine, including training every day, for him learning more about the Ghosts, and doing check-ups on the border to the huge facility. It wasn’t boring, but he found it to be a little too…. _dull_ for his liking.

Logan got up from his bed in his plain room, only consisting of a desk, drawer and bed, before exiting his room, locking the door behind him.

The reason for that was for one thing: his almost ruined uniform. He didn’t know if it was a normal military uniform or the Ghosts, but the one thing he did know was that he was supposed to have burnt it, and just keeping it would compromise his mission. But….there was something about it that made him feel….attached to it somehow, like it was a part of his soul. He didn’t know why, but he did know that when he had gone to burn it, he hadn’t been able to do it.

And now it was hiding in the back of his drawer, hiding underneath all of the standard Federation uniform.

Really, it was the only place where it wouldn’t get discovered.

Logan walked down the halls, mostly understanding the facility and where to go now he had been there for a month. He passed many soldiers, to which he made no effort into greeting or even acknowledging them.

Soon, he was at the boss’s door, and he knocked swiftly, checking his watch.

_Right on time._ He thought as he heard a “come in!” from the inside.

Logan entered the office, and was surprized at what he saw.

Instead of the usual office, which consisted of a computer and two unoccupied chairs on the other side, he was met with the desk at the corner of the room with one chair supporting an injured man tied to it with the other holding Rorke, who glanced at him before turning back to the man.

“This is one of the men we are up against. A Ghost. These are the people I’m going to kill, the people I will exterminate before I take the world. Logan, this is Merrick, leader of the Ghosts and your final test.” At his look, Rorke elaborated further. “The man you’re going to kill.”

/// //// //// //// ///


	3. Chapter 3

**_ Chapter 3: _ **

Rorke’s words rung in his head.

_“Logan, this is Merrick, leader of the Ghosts and your final test. He’s the one you’re going to kill.”_

Logan stared at the man in front of him, who was staring at him – recognising him in an instant. Merrick was bald and had a dark brown beard, brown eyes going wide as he looked between him and Rorke as the man held out a gun to him.

Logan grabbed it, not sparing a glance at Rorke, all attention on Merrick.

There was something about him that he couldn’t identify. He looked….familiar in a way, so familiar that a memory came to him, what he thought to be Merrick looking down as another guy looked down too, only with a gun to his head. Logan felt something stir as he looked into the memory, finding the other guy in the memory that held his dad’s death.

Some sort of emotion must have appeared on his face, for Merrick took his chance.

“Logan, it’s me, Merrick! Remember me? The team? We’ve been looking all over for you for the past year, tracking-” He was cut off when a fist met his face, the man grunting as he struggled against his restraints. “Logan, it’s me!”

“Shut it, Merrick, or I’ll kill you myself, and trust me, I’ll make it slow.” That made Merrick shut up, but he still had a look about him, urging him to help him escape.

Rorke turned to him, nodding at the gun. “Do it. This man has done many crimes that he must pay for.”

Logan levelled the M9A1 at Merrick’s head, trying not to shake.

_It’s my life or yours, my life or yours._ He tried to repeat in his head, but something stopped him from pulling the trigger. _He’s your friend,_ a voice deep inside told him. _He’s someone you know._

Logan didn’t believe it, but he didn’t shoot.

He stared into the man’s eyes, taking deep breath after deep breath. _Please be the right decision._

He lowered the gun, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again. “I can’t do it.”

Rorke turned to him, eyebrows raised. “How come? Are you not as strong as I thought?”

Logan frowned, before he felt his whole cool and collected identity break. “I’m not who you think I am, Rorke.” He spat out his name, causing Rorke to stand, turning slowly to him.

His eyes narrowed before realisation dawned on him. He snorted, shaking his head at him. “You lied last month, didn’t you? Faked the identity, lied about the memories-” Logan cut him off.

“No, the memories were half true. But the one I can remember includes you and murder, something I will kill you for.” Logan put the gun up and fired, hitting the man in the left arm as he moved away from the shot.

Rorke grabbed out a knife as Logan realised there was only one bullet in the magazine, chucking the gun away as Rorke lunged at him, sending him crashing against the wall and onto the floor, trying to keep the knife from penetrating his skin.

“I thought I could trust you, Logan. But I must have overlooked the times where you were most vulnerable. You faked your way through a whole month of training. It’s impressive, but I don’t think you’re going to like going back to your prison.” The dagger edged its way closer to his stomach, Logan gritting his teeth, unable to talk as he focused on trying to keep it away.

Rorke smirked, despite the disappointing situation. “Seems like I’m still stronger than you, Logan. So if that’s true, then there’s no reason for you to be able to get away from me.” Logan pushed the dagger out of his stomach’s area and over his shoulder’s joint, feeling the pain worse than ever as Rorke pushed it through his muscle, making him grunt with effort to not scream.

Logan gasped as he let go, Rorke ripping it out a moment later.

He lay there for a moment, trying to channel the pain as Rorke crouched next to him, leaning in close.

“Your mine, Logan. Nothing’s going to change that.” He whispered, before standing up, calling out to the guards. “Take this man back to ThePit. It seems we still have some work to do with him.” The two men grabbed his arms, hauling him to his feet.

Logan hissed in pain as they grabbed his arms and tied them behind his back. He looked at Merrick one last time, the man doing the same.

A message passed between them, and Logan knew it was true.

_We’ll meet again._

They pushed him past the door, the image of Rorke’s bleeding arm and Merrick’s angry face disappearing behind the room.

They had only walked around a few corners when the alarms went up. They stopped Logan in his tracks, the two men in front of him doing the same.

Then the lights went out.

“What the-” Logan seized his chance with open arms.

He used the darkness to twist out of his captors grasps and acted on reflex, bringing out a leg and knocking at least one of them to the ground. The gun went off from the fallen man, making light appear for only a second.

That was all he needed to find where they were.

He smashed his foot into what he knew to be the guy’s neck, breaking his windpipe and leaving him to die as he gasped for air. Logan ducked under the other man’s swing by pure instinct, the guy obviously using the light as well, and grabbed it with his bound arms, jumping over it, hearing the loud snap the action made. He then kicked the guy in the face and grabbed the gun off of him with ease, his handcuffs snapping off as he pulled on them with the gun. He then let his gun go off, the flash showing the two dead men that had just been holding him captive.

He snorted. _Rorke, you should find better men to hold me here._

Logan used his hands to find where he held the torch, grabbing it and turning it on. He grabbed what he needed relatively fast, consisting of the other guys P226, more of the AK-12’s ammo, another torch and a knife. He used the knife to take off the handcuffs that still hung to his wrists like tight wristbands before standing there for a moment, trying to figure out where he was.

_Ok, I’ve got what I need. I just need to figure out what I last saw when I got here…._ He thought for a moment. I don’t have time for this. I just need to get out of here. _My time in this place is long overdue._

He ran towards where he had come from, knowing the nearest exit to be that way. He knew the consequences of the action – he could run into Rorke or that Ghost – but he chose to go anyway.

_I can sneak past them_ , he thought. _I’ll be able to move around the lot of them and escape._

Even though he vaguely recognised Merrick, he wouldn’t trust him just yet. The guy was a Ghost after all. For all he knew, he could have been their prisoner when the Feds attacked!

He walked down the next hall, footsteps as light as a feather against the ground.

That’s when he heard a noise. Multiple noises.

Logan immediately shut off his flashlight and placed it in his Federation uniform’s trousers, tightening his grip on his AK-12.

_Shit. I bet it’s the Federation. Key’s, key’s….do I have any to get into one of these doors?_ He checked his pockets. _Nope. God, life won’t give me a break, won’t it?_ Logan almost slapped himself _. God, I’m stupid. I’m in a Fed uniform! All I need to is play pretend, maybe get some information out of them while I’m at it, and hope Rorke hasn’t told anyone I’m supposed to be back in the pit. I wouldn’t normally set my sights on luck, but it’s my only option._

Logan started to walk casually towards the noise, flashlight in his grasp and turned on.

The footsteps came closer and closer before he found a couple lights in front of him. “Hey, are you the Feds?” He asked, coming around the corner. The men all had their guns up, fingers on the trigger. “Woah!” He put his arms up, surrendering. “I’m on your side! Seriously, I was just walking down the halls when the alarms went on before it went pitch black! Who’s attacking?” After his explanation, the men lowered their guns.

He almost sighed in relief. _Good, Rorke hasn’t told anyone. Now for the information._

The leader of the group stepped towards him, nodding. “The Ghosts. I’m trying to spread the word. You mind helping me with that?”

Logan nodded, lying. “Sure, I’ll do what I can to help out.” He started to walk away when the voice of the leader met his ears.

“Are you sure you what to go out there alone? The Ghosts are very dangerous and skilled group of men.”

Logan smirked behind his back. _Extra information. Well appreciated, idiot._

“I’ll be fine. I’m trying to regroup with my resigned team, so I’ll pass a few others and let them know.” He started to walk away when the man’s voice stopped him yet again.

“Good luck, solider.” The sentence was full of truth, and he couldn’t stop himself from returning it.

“You too.”

With that, he walked away from them and up the next hall, knowing the route to bypassing them without encountering them again.

_Ok, when I get out, what am I going to do? Advance towards the forest? Take cover and wait?_ He frowned. _No, I’ll have to wait and see what the situations like before I go and do something._

When he organised his thoughts, his senses were met to footsteps coming up the hallway.

Light, but able to hear under slight strain.

And they were right behind him.

Logan spun around, just ready to put his hands on the knife that would have killed him. The man behind it was wearing some sort of night vision goggles, which he only saw for a split second before his gun and flashlight were flying out of his hands, his back slamming against the floor as the momentum of the man took him down. He tried to get the knife up to hit the assaulting man with it, but he wouldn’t allow it and would keep pushing down. They were at equal lengths in strength, so the knife was always in the middle.

He had an idea, using a sudden push to the side that ratted his attacker, sending him to the ground with Logan on top.

He twisted the man’s hand while he was pushing down, making him let go for a second. This gave Logan all the time he needed to twist the knife around and thrust. The man caught it at the last second, trying to get him off of him.

When he thought he won, the cold barrel of a gun pressed against his head, making him freeze.

The man underneath him scrambled out from under him in his chance to escape, taking the knife from his grasp with ease before he assumed he put it back in his pocket and grab something else, for the clicking of the safety of a gun going off was heard.

Logan was on his knees, wondering who they were and what they were going to do.

_Are these the Ghosts?_ Logan thought back to the time where he had seen Merrick in the chair. _That uniform, though a little ripped, is what I saw this guy wearing. Defiantly a Ghost. If they wanted to kill me, they would have already done it by now, so what do they want?_

It didn’t take him long to find out.

A flashlight was put in his face, something he wasn’t ready for, his hands up to his face to block it in an instant. When he did it, he felt the barrel get pushed harder into his skull, reminding him if he tried anything, he would be dead in seconds.

“Where is Logan Walker?” The man in front of him asked, the mask – no, face paint – scrunched up in anger.

_Logan…Walker? Are they talking about someone else?_ He thought back to Merrick yet again, how he told him the Ghosts were looking for him. _No, that’s me. My last name’s Walker._ A hint of a smile came onto his face. _I’m a walker. I walk everywhere. God, why am I even thinking about puns?_

The back of a pistol slamming into his face brought him back to the present, surprized he hadn’t lost any teeth.

_My luck._ He thought, almost shaking his head at the current events. _Even if it’s not that great right now._

“Where is Logan Walker?” The man yelled, the pistol getting pressed into his forehead.

_Wow, smart move. Two guns pressed against my skull. Well done, Ghosts._ He brought himself back to topic. _Where’s Logan Walker? I don’t know, he’s locked somewhere deep in my mind. The one you used to know is probably holed up in his memories. You should come by sometime and help me out._

When he didn’t answer, the man pulled back his pistol, slamming it into his face yet again, Logan recoiling from the pain and feeling blood run into his eye.

_Great, you just made my life a whole lot harder, you son of a bitch._

“WHERE IS HE?” He yelled, spitting into his face, looking desperate and angry all at once.

_Should I say so?_ The question made him feel different about the situation. _Should he know I’ve turned into something else?_

“I don’t know,” He mumbled. “Somewhere locked in my mind.” He whispered the last part, the sentence not meant to be heard.

But of course, things just had to go off the plan.

The man lowered his pistol, letting go of his anger and desperation all in one second, replaced with disbelief.

“Logan?” The voice was a whisper, before turning louder. “Logan!” He was enveloped in a hug, making him flinch from the contact, his injured shoulder protesting.

_Woah, back off, man. It hurts and I’ve only just met you….well….I think so, anyway._

His mind suddenly went from awkward to angry, pushing him off of him. “I don’t know you or any of the Ghosts. Ask that Merrick guy or whatever his name was. He’ll tell you the-” Logan cut himself off, twisting while grabbing the knife off of the hugger’s belt, turning to face the other man and flinging the knife across the hall, narrowly missing the other Ghost and the weapon smashing into the man coming around the corner’s neck, killing him instantly.

Logan turned back to the man who he borrowed the knife from, the guy staring at him in disbelief.

_Yeah, yeah, I’ve done it before. No need to be so shocked about it._

He ignored the shocked look and turned to the other guy, seeking his help in command. “There’s more of them coming, so I suggest we move.”

The guy nodded after slight hesitation, making him snort. “Ghosts.”

Logan started to walk away, scooping up his AK-12 and flashlight, stopping when he heard no movement behind him. “Look, I know we just met and all….well, to me, anyway, and I’m not sure if it’s a great idea, but…..I’m going to help you guys out. You can get out, I can escape, and we’re all one big happy family. So follow me.” When the two men didn’t respond to his mini speech, he sighed. “Or do you want to get captured and tortured, cause trust me, it’s not fun.”

He turned and walked towards the nearest exit, the two men rushing after him after a moment of….whatever that was.

_Confusion? Doubt? It could all be one thing. But, even if I look like the Logan Walker they knew, I’m not. The real one is locked away somewhere in my soul, just waiting to be unlocked. But to regain my memories, I need to find triggers that will do that; the keys that will help me unlock them._ Logan shook his head. _No, I don’t want to stick around these guys. Who knows if they’re lying? Everyone here has been doing that, so why shouldn’t they?_ He sighed, shaking his head again to rid the thoughts. _Don’t think about this now. Maybe some time when I’m not trying to escape from the facility with another side that will probably backstab me the moment they get the chance._

He jogged down a few halls with no incidents.

_I’m like the man between heaven and hell; one fighting for freedom and peace, the other for justice and revenge. I need to find which one I belong in – or if I don’t belong – fast, or they’ll choose it for me._

He turned around another corner, finding a light under a door. He shut off his flashlight and stopped at the exit, smirking as another thought entered his mind.

_I’m jumping ships. I wonder when I’ll do it again…if I do it again._

He put his ear up against the door, hearing voices, loads of footsteps and vehicles on the other side, and the occasional gunshot when they saw something move. He looked over to who seemed to be the leader of the duo, the guy with face paint, and made a series of hand gestures, somehow knowing he would understand.

_“A load of them out there. We need to be quick and able to find cover with maximum damage before the element of surprize leaves. If you have any grenades of some sort, they would be a great distraction. You good?”_

_Sign language? I don’t know when I learnt it or how I know he knows it, but I’ll go with it._

The guy seemed surprized as well, but hid it well. He made a flurry of gestures in response, Logan finally getting a name for the two.

_“Got it. And Logan, I’m Hesh and this is Kick. We’ll back you up out there, don’t worry.”_

He almost snorted.

_Yeah, sure. I know I may have trust issues, but that just seems absurd._

Logan held out three fingers.

_“Ok, three.”_ Him and Hesh stood to the sides of the door, flashlights off and at their sides. _“Two.”_ Kick stood next to Hesh, both of them raring to go. _“One.”_ They smashed the door down, and all hell broke loose.

/// //// //// //// ///


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! I understand I haven't gotten many hits in the last few days, but I don't care. I have a lot of views on my work on Fanfiction.net, so that's all that matters at the moment.   
> On that said website, I have 12 chapters posted of it. I'm going slowly for this (sorry) because I want to continue to remind myself that i need to update soon.   
> Anyway, have fun reading!

**_ Chapter 4: _ **

When he and Hesh broke the door down, they had the element of surprize. Some had turned around when hearing it, some dove to get cover, and others just stood there and didn’t know what was happening.

_Idiots,_ Logan thought bitterly, almost shaking his head as he took a few down in those few precious seconds of surprize. _I can’t believe Rorke wanted me to be one of them._

He, Hesh and Kick gunned down as many as they could while they were in the open before he ducked under a couple of crates, a bullet whooshing past his head.

_Shit, that was close._ He gripped his gun harder. _Remember your training here. You know how they work and how they use their weapons, so recognise what they’re trying to do and stop it._

Logan peered through the gap in the crates, trying to find some sign of organisation.

_There!_ He stared at a man in cover from the Ghosts but not from him, the guy talking into a radio. _Their calling reinforcements, and with that…._ He watched the guy’s mouth, trying to figure out what he was saying. _A bunch of equipment that will surely slow us down. We need to push past these guys before they send in more people, and fast._

“Don’t get pinned down!” He yelled at the others, who were on the right side of the field, trying to get out of the position he had just told them not to get in. “They want reinforcements! Split up and get on different sides – it’ll take more of them to take us down!”

Kick sent a nod of acknowledgement, Logan wondering how he had heard him in the raining bullets of gunfire. _No, this is the time we need to use fast and efficiently. Make sure they don’t get hurt or knocked out and I’ve got myself away from here._

Logan waited five seconds before finding the man making the call, shooting him expertly through the tiny gap in the head. _One down, a hundred more to go._ He thought sarcastically, grabbing his one and only grenade and sending it flying towards the men shooting at him, the thing going off and sending the closest flying and others crying out in pain.

Now knowing the enemy knew his position, he threw himself into the middle of the field, taking cover behind a cement road block, narrowly missing a few bullets. _Close, but not close enough._ He thought teasingly before going on his stomach and poking his head out, trying to find the guys pinning the Ghosts down, who were now behind him.

He glanced around before finding the men behind a road block, all five of them up and smirking like they had won the lottery. _Not today, you fuckers!_ With that thought in mind, Logan shot all five of them in the head with a single burst of bullets from the automatic machinegun. _Ha! Suck on that bitches!_

He got back in a crouch, turning back to find both Ghosts splitting up like he had suggested. _Good, they’ve taken my advice. Now to remove these fuckers from the battlefield and get away before the reinforcements arrive._

They moved forward slowly, taking out all of those with expert skills before the rest of the enemy were eliminated, showing the forest about 500m in front of them, a fallen log giving valuable cover to see the base and hide from bullets – a great spot to use.

Logan nodded at the two Ghosts, who were now beside him. “Let’s get moving before the reinforcements arrive.”

Logan was the first to take the run, noticing how Hesh and Kick had a hand over their ears, obviously sending and receiving orders from someone.

_They need to tell somebody what they’re doing,_ he reasoned. _Merrick and whoever else there is needs to know they’re escaping with me._

He jumped over the log he had been aiming for, ducking behind the cover before simply lying back for a moment, enjoying the feeling of the grass in his hands, the wildlife making their represented noises and the feeling of just being free overwhelming him.

_Oh….I forgot how good it feels to be free….just like everything else._ The thought turned bitter in a flash, and before he could think of something else something made it to his ears – a sound so tiny only the best of the best could hear it.

He was crouching with his gun at the ready in an instant, turning and peering above the log to find what he had been afraid of.

Hesh and Kick had their hands on their heads in surrender, more than two dozen soldiers surrounding them with their guns pointing at them. He watched as the leader of the squad stalked up to Hesh and asked a question, more than likely to where he was. Hesh must have said something bad, for the man struck him in the forehead with the butt of his gun, making the man fall to the ground, unconscious.

_Shit. They stayed there for too long. Two against however many there are…not good odds. I need to time this right and use the right equipment to help them, but make sure not to hurt them._ He frowned, suddenly realising something. _If these guys are as good as I’ve been told, then a distraction is all they need to gain the upper hand and kill these guys._ He nodded, already mapping out a quick plan in his head. _A distraction….that’s something I can do._

Logan raised his weapon, scanning the battlefield for objects that he could get to explode without hurting the Ghosts, but maybe a few of the Feds. He spotted a small gas tank just to the left of the group, in such a position that it wouldn’t hurt the Ghosts yet probably burn a few of the closer ones. He spotted another one on the other side, just a little closer than the other small tank. _The first one’s great, but the second one….it could be a bit risky._ He thought about it for a long moment, watching as the leader demanded where he was, and as Kick spat out a similar remark to what Hesh said. _It’s a risk I’m going to have to take if I’m to save their lives._

Logan aimed his gun at the one on the left, dimly aware of the gun pressing against Kick’s forehead. _Do it now!_ He let out a short burst from the Ak-12, not waiting to see the thing explode as he aimed at the other and let out another short burst, both tries hitting their mark, and all in a second.

He watched the Fed’s reactions, about six of them burning alive with more than a dozen of the others getting knocked off their feet. He watched Kick grab the leader around the neck and snap it before ripping the gun off of the dead man’s hands and shooting the recovering soldiers. _What are you waiting for? Get in there and help him before he gets overwhelmed!_

Logan used an arm to propel himself over the fallen log before sprinting towards the fight, aiming his weapon at the man behind Kick.

_Bang!_ It slammed straight into the Feds chest, sending him down. He went to shoot another, and when he pressed the trigger he felt his luck run out.

The mag was empty.

He didn’t wait to reload the thing, chucking it away before grabbing his knife and P226 and shooting just to keep them down and away from both the fallen Ghost and Kick, who was in a struggle with another guy on the floor.

As he got closer, he continued to shoot the men, now with only a dozen left 100m away, half of them already trying to reach cover. Logan shot two of them before they reached it, and when he realised he had to reload, he was forced to skid into the grass, reloading fast under the pressure of saving him from capture and the Ghosts from certain death.

Logan rose to a crouch, trying to find what was going on now that everything was a little….quiet, despite having heard the loud cracks of bullets moments before.

_What the…._

Logan rose to his feet only to find Kick being held tightly to a boarder and stronger man’s chest, the guy holding a gun to his head.

Four Feds had their guns on him, but the other one had it on Hesh’s.

_Shit._ He thought. _Checkmate._ The word entered his thoughts without meaning, and he felt his eyebrows go up in confusion. _What the hell was that? I’m thinking about my luck running out, not some game of chess!_

He focused back on the situation at hand, frowning. _God damn it, they’ve got me good….real good. It’s either save myself or save people I barely recognise._ He let his pistol rise, aware of the four men with their guns on him. _Save myself or them. Me or them._ The moment when he nearly shot Merrick came to him, and he immediately realised he was thinking along the same lines he had thought of thirty minutes before. _I saved him from death….why can’t I do the same for these guys?_

_Because if you shoot at either guy holding one of them, you and the other Ghost will die._ His inner voice told him sternly, and he realised it was right.

_There’s no way out of this one._

He reluctantly lowered his P226, holding up his hands and chucking the knife to the side, far enough so it wouldn’t seem a threat, but close enough so that when the time came he could grab it quickly.

_Game over._ This wasn’t a game, but he knew it was true. The escape was over; he had failed.

But it didn’t mean he was going to go down without a fight, especially with the Ghosts still here. If anything, they should escape, and for some reason, he felt inclined to do just that – to try and save them with all of his might. _I may not know what this feeling means, but I know this feeling is right: I need to get these guys away from them, and fast. For if anymore come, we’re screwed._

The four men rushed over to him, two standing back with their guns drawn as the other two ripped the gun out of his hands and grabbed him by the arms, one of them hitting him in the head with the butt of their Bulldog so hard he blacked out for a moment, for he was beside Kick when he came to.

Logan could feel the blow above the same eye where Hesh had hit him, causing the wound that had stopped bleeding to bleed again.

_Whoever did that is going to pay, and because I don’t know who did it, I’m going to make you all pay._ He thought darkly, glaring at the whole lot of them, all the while checking who was around him.

They were all still in the open with Hesh still on the ground, a gun still pressed to his head. He and Kick were beside each other, on their knees, hands tied behind their back with a gun to their heads. The man that had had Kick at his mercy paced in front of them, smirking when he saw him awake.

_And the interrogation begins._ He thought bitterly, gritting his teeth as the pain from his shoulder and throbbing head came back to him.

“What are you doing with these guys, kid? Aren’t you on our side?” He asked him, halting in his pacing to stare at him.

_I’m trying to get away, you dickhead. And no, I’m just the guy shooting at your guys because I think it is fun._

“What do you think? I thought one of you would have recognised me by now, you idiots.” He got a punch in the face for that last comment, his jaw throbbing.

One of the free guards spoke up. “Sir, he’s the guy Rorke wanted back. The guy that he’s been keeping in The Pit for about a year until last month.” The guard nodded at him, showing who he was talking about, even though there was no need for it.

Recognition flared in the leaders eyes, a small smirk rising on his lips.

“Ah, that guy he brought back? That guy that went hands on by the end of his imprisonment? The one that broke two guys arms before he was let into the force? What was his name….Logan?” Logan gave him a look, unsure where he was going with this. “Yes, that’s right. His name was Logan. The kid that we’ve got right here.” He poked him in the stomach with his gun, making him tense. “Did you know Rorke was asking for you to be brought back alive? Well, he did, and he didn’t specify what condition he wanted you in. I guess I’ll have some fun with you then.”

Logan realised this man was a psycho right as he said the last few words, almost like he was talking to himself – which he was certain the madman was. 

The first punch that got him in the face came fast, hitting him hard. He wasn’t expecting it, so it hurt like a bitch, especially when he knew the guy had packed in a lot of punch – meaning most of his strong build was being used to hurt him…. _unnecessarily_ hurt him.

_God….this guy is a psycho._ He thought, doubling over when the guy kicked him in the ribs, noting how the other Feds didn’t get involved. _Probably too scared to help me out….or they think I deserve it – who knows?_ Another punch to the face made him spit out blood, coughing as another kick got him in the ribs.

“From the months of torture you had, this should be nothing,” The crazed man taunted. “You shouldn’t even be flinching.” Another kick to the ribs and he felt the pain triple, making him actually cry out.

The man had broken one of his ribs. _Oh, and was he going to pay!_

Hatred flew up into his bones, and everything just seemed to fill with iron, adrenaline filling his body with such anger that nothing could have stopped it.

And just like that, the pain went away.

Then again, so did the wall that had had him chained there, scared for the Ghosts lives.

He reacted just as another fist hit its mark, snarling like an animal and pushing his bound hands up, grabbing the guard’s hands and flipping him over his head, the bullet that rung through the clearing missing him by an inch.

But he didn’t feel the relief. He didn’t feel the pain of his left shoulder popping out of place from the action. He didn’t feel any pain as he ripped off his restraints or as he grabbed two guns off the floor. He didn’t feel any remorse as he shot the guy holding Kick in the chest, and the one holding Hesh in the head. He didn’t feel anything as he rose to his feet and shot the guy that had hurt him _again_ and _again_ and _again_. He watched the blood fly out of his head, the shock in his eyes as they dulled, and the smirk that changed into one of horror as his limp body fell to the floor. He didn’t do anything, he just stood there, trying to fall away from his crazed state and find a path to his other one.

For this one….it was only one of the things Rorke had created in that pit. A creature so dark and twisted that no one deserved to be seen around it.

For in the end, he would just kill the people when he had an episode, just like this one.

Logan took deep breaths, trying to make the darkness lose its grasp on him, just to try and raise that solid wall that he hadn’t crossed since the day Rorke created it.

Since the day Logan Walker truly cracked under the pressure. Since the day Rorke had gotten into his mind.

Since the day the ex-Ghost had created this monster.

A hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present, and acting on reflex he grabbed it and twisted it, trying to figure out how long he had been standing there for.

“Logan!” A voice to his right brought his attention, and he realised Hesh was the one he was holding in a wrist-breaking position.

He let go of the once unconscious man’ wrist, stumbling backwards, his breathing quickening. _Shit…Oh god….What have I done…?_

He stared at the crazed man’s body, three bullets in the centre of his skull with the other three in his heart.

_Oh god…._

Logan turned slowly towards the Ghosts, seeing the concerned looks. “I…I’m sorry you had to see that, Kick. I….” He shook his head, meaning to say more when an agonising pain made itself known in his stomach, head, and left arm.

_Oh…Shit…._ He thought slowly, feeling slightly light-headed through the pain. _I’m going to faint…._

Hesh must have seen him about to fall, for he was behind him in an instant, catching him before he hit the floor.

“What happened to him?” The worried man demanded, lying him on the floor.

Kick looked around before giving him the information he needed. “The guy over there broke his rib. After that Logan just went….” Logan almost missed when Kick shook his head, trying to keep himself from crying out from the pain. “I don’t even know what to call it. He went all out, and by the looks of things, dislocated his shoulder and broke his wrist in the process. Hesh…I’ll explain it later, for we have to get out of here before more Feds come along.”

_He’s right,_ he thought through the haze of pain. _We need to get out of here._

He must have said it out loud, for Hesh and Kick were staring at him.

“Logan…this is going to hurt,” Hesh told him, arms coming underneath him. “Let’s move!” He told Kick before picking him up, Logan letting out a gasp as the pain intensified as Hesh began to run.

All coordination of up, down, left and right left him as Hesh ran and jumped over the log and into the forest.

_Fall asleep; fall asleep; fall asleep…._ His thoughts were just screaming at him to just faint and be able to rid himself of this pain that felt like it was killing him.

Logan felt agony race through his bones once again, dizziness making his vision go dark.

_Yes…Please_ …

His vision continued to deteriorate until he felt his eyes close, feeling his consciousness begin to slip.

_Please…_

When he finally entered the dream world, he found something that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

**Freedom.**

/// //// //// //// ///

**_David “Hesh” Walker_ **

/// //// //// //// ///

**~Time Passed: 1 Minute~**

David felt like he had just lost a piece of the puzzle he had just completed. He felt empty and sad; broken and angry – and it was all Rorke’s fault.

_He_ had killed his dad in front of them. _He_ had taken Logan away. _He_ had caused _his brother_ to lose his memories of him….of everyone….

And oh, did that hurt him.

He and the team had been searching for months – just searching for him. When that failed, they went to work on places that could have information on where he was, and found a facility only a week later. When they found it, they put out the plan, consisting of getting all the information about prisoners. They infiltrated a week later, pulling it off successfully.

What they found wasn’t reassuring.

What they had collected wasn’t just information about Logan, but information about two other STALKERS called ‘Torch’ and ‘Grim’. Their real names he didn’t know, for Logan was the only one he cared about.

For he hadn’t seen him in six months, and he could only imagine what he was going through.

He went over the information provided, the few documents on their prisoners showing images and something about ‘The Pit’, something he knew very well.

Elias had said something about that. Something about Rorke getting that exact treatment to brainwash him and turn him against his farther and the remaining Ghosts – which now, unfortunately, meant him and his brother. The Pit was told to twist minds and break them with multiple rounds of torture and the isolation from the rest of the world. It was told to turn them into someone else…. _something_ else.

And really, that still held to its name.

For the man in his arms had done that exact thing only a few minutes before. To if it was true, he didn’t know. But if Kick had said so and Logan had said sorry….then who was he to not believe it?

When he found out that they were doing that, he started freaking out. That was his brother – his _baby brother_ they were harming! He couldn’t let that go on!

So, with that and a new determination in mind, he had gotten to work and read the rest of the files concerning his brother.

What he’d found was surprizing, even to Merrick.

It contained reports on what Logan was doing, and from what he’d seen from pictures, videos and a report of the first three months scared the shit out of him.

For one, he’d been writing words on the wall in his _own blood_. That in itself suggested someone on the verge of craziness, and that hadn’t reassured him on the turning. On another fact, it had reports of what he knew.

And from that information he knew it wasn’t good.

It listed the questions that were asked in interrogations, and as the months went on it seemed to get harder and harder to answer them, for the hesitation in the videos showed that it wasn’t good. Then, in the middle of the seventh month, the first question couldn’t be answered.

His name.

Logan couldn’t remember what his _full name_ was.

And all Hesh could feel was his hate for Rorke grow stronger.

After the reports, pictures and videos had been watched, observed and read, Hesh had been on the verge of tears.

But he didn’t let them go. He didn’t let that one moment of weakness turn into an hour.

For he was a solider, and he had a job to do.

Merrick had gone through them after him, and he had found the one important thing he had missed.

A location on where he might be.

A jungle out in No Man’s Land.

It held a lot abandoned buildings and trenches full of the bodies of the dead, but if he looked closer – and he definitely had – than he could see some sort of shadow of a person.

A person with a gun.

That had sold it for the Ghosts, and they had gone over to investigate a week later.

He and Kick had found someone deep within the facility, with Merrick and Keegan finding another. When these injured and seemingly tortured men were taken back with them, they found out who they were.

The other two missing Ghosts: Torch and Grim.

Torch was severely injured, having his eyesight rendered blind and unable to talk like he used to. Grim had lost his sense of hearing, now unable to hear footsteps if on the battlefield.

Both accepted their fate without any questions – leave the force and settle down for a while.

And that they did.

They hadn’t been there just for an extraction, either. They had found information containing another base in another jungle, somewhere around Asia.

They went there for information two weeks later, only to find it to be a trap. They had tried to fight their way out, but when they did Merrick was caught and taken prisoner. It was terrible for them, and they couldn’t work without their leader.

But to his and Kick’s surprize, Keegan was calm.

For he had put a tracker on all of them, even him, just in case they were captured.

That just proved that he was as sneaky as they thought he was.

They followed it for a while, and couldn’t make their move for a month because of all of the Federation around – their aircrafts and vehicles were everywhere!

They finally found their opening in a facility in the Amazon Jungle, where they planned to extract him before they hurt him anymore than they already had.

But they got more than they bargained for. For the moment the tracker was in range of their ear-pieces, they got a part of the talk.

And Logan was mentioned, as well as Merrick.

And with all of them getting into the facility and shutting down the lights, they found Merrick and set to work on Logan.

And here they were, racing to the extraction point with someone they had been looking for just over a year.

Logan Walker, his baby brother.

And that made him excited and raring to get into the chopper and flee this place before Rorke got anymore Feds on them. 

Hesh and Kick raced through the undergrowth, hearing the sound of bullets and people shouting in the distance, which only made them run faster.

_“Hesh, this is command. You there?”_ Keegan’s voice came over the com, and he answered it without a problem.

“Yep, we’ve got Logan and are on our way to the extraction point. We’re almost there.” He answered with a gruff voice, starting to pant at the strain of sprinting and carrying Logan in his arms.

He hadn’t noticed until now how he had decided to carry him bridal style, and even though it made him feel slightly embarrassed, he made sure he had reasons.

_If I carried him normally, I’m sure he would have damaged his ribs way more than like this. And I’ve got Kick to help me if things go south. I can always put him down if shit hits the fan, too. There’s always that option_.

_“Good,”_ Keegan’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. _“Merrick and I just arrived. Be sure to be quick, though. There are a lot of Feds out here.”_

“Copy that. Be there in a minute.” Kick answered for him, noticing his struggle to carry the now sleeping Logan and answer at the same time.

A few moments passed before Merrick’s voice came through the com. _“You guys alright? I heard some commotion back there.”_

Again, Kick answered. “Yeah, we’re fine. I wouldn’t say the same for Logan, though.” Kick didn’t elaborate, much to his relief.

This conversation could be done later, when they weren’t trying to get to the extraction point as fast as they could go.

Merrick must have sensed their hidden meaning, for he didn’t press.

_I wonder how Merrick’s doing. Keegan said so earlier, but….I need to know for myself._ With that in mind, he made the struggle to ask his question.

“How are you, Merrick? From what Keegan told me, you seemed fine but….” Merrick finished his sentence before he could continue.

_“You want to know yourself.”_ Merrick’s understanding voice came through his com, and he could only wonder what this man was capable of.

_Sometimes, he just knows what you’re going to say before you say it,_ He thought. _It’s fascinating._

_“I’m fine, Hesh. Got beaten a few times, and nearly died, but that’s the life of a Ghost. Always taking risks….but not so they seem reckless.”_ He felt the last sentence be directed at him, and he immediately clenched his jaw, angry at himself.

It was true. He had been angry and reckless after Rorke took Logan. So much that they had to take him off duty for a month to try and keep him safe – just to calm down and realise it wasn’t the end. Then he could do more and he could find his brother and save him from Rorke’s clutches. Even if he did end up drinking and throwing beer bottles at the rest of the team when he was drunk and angry, it started to get better as the month went by.

And it was all because he was starting to figure out why he needed to stay strong, not become some weak piss that was just drinking and becoming the deadweight of the team.

And that reason was for Logan. For the team, even. Everyone he cared about, everyone he knew…he was just letting them down.

When he figured that out, he got better, doing research on his whereabouts and other information on where he could be keeping him. 

And that was the start of the new and improved Hesh Walker – well….that’s what his dad _would_ have said if he was here….

A pang of sadness entered his heart, and he immediately felt himself tense, before taking himself back to Earth, taking a deep breath.

_Not now. I need to take control of this situation. I can’t go around having flashbacks now, can I? I have a job to do._

Hesh, taking another deep breath, answered. “I know….I….I just….” He stopped his answer, finding the extraction point on his tracker. “We’re here.”

He and Kick exited the trees, finding a clearing where a helicopter was waiting, Merrick and Keegan waiting by the door. When the two saw them, Merrick opened the door while Keegan walked over, planning to check Logan over.

“How is he?” The mysterious man asked, walking with him.

Hesh looked down at his brother, watching him breathe. “Don’t know. You tell me. If having a few broken bones is good, please tell me.”

He knew it wasn’t the best time for jokes, but he didn’t care.

They all needed a pick-me-up after finding out Logan didn’t remember them.

Kick’s hand was on Keegan’s shoulder before he could do anything.

“This can wait. We need to get out of here. When we’re in the Heli we can do what we can.”

Without a word, they both nodded, knowing it was for the best.

“Got it. Let’s get this thing up in the air.”

All three of them jogged over to the floor to where Merrick was waiting, the Heli starting to get ready for flight.

Merrick nodded at them, though Hesh didn’t acknowledge him as he ran into the Helicopter, placing Logan on the seat beside him.

He just stared at him, only vaguely noticing Merrick getting into the front and Kick and Keegan getting into the middle with him.

_God, Logan. You’ve scared the shit out of me. You’ve also done a few things that have creeped me out, and things that just aren’t exactly….you. Sure, it’s got a bit of you in it, but….there’s something about the tone of voice that makes you seem off. I don’t know….you are you, Logan. But I can’t help notice how even in the light, your eyes seemed to show off all of the things you’ve been through. And all I can see is a spark of light in the darkness instead of all light. Now all I need to find is what’s causing that light, and help you make it expel the darkness that’s dragged you down._

“Kick, Hesh….What happened back there?” Merrick’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, only just realising that Keegan was checking on Logan. “You were telling us what had and was happening, then….you just stopped.” The older man asked, seeming to frown, even if he was in the front with the pilot, who had already gotten them above the forest and moving forward, starting to make their way out of enemy territory.

“Well…After we defeated all of the men outside, Logan ran over to the cover in the forest, and we decided that after we talked to you, we would make our way over to him.” Hesh shook his head, remembering his brother’s words. “He told us not to stay out there too long, and we did exactly that. We got cornered, and when they asked me a question, I made a snaky remark and was out of the match,” He pointed at the small patch of dry blood on his temple, snorting. “That’s what they gave me – and before you ask, yes, I was knocked out by my loyalty to my brother.”

Kick was on the case in a flash, not waiting for their leader to ask him to continue.

“After that, the guy asked me the same question. When I answered, the guy said he only needed one of us, and put a gun to my head. Then two explosions came off to my right and left, and then I was snapping the guys neck and then in a struggle with another guy, this one stronger and bigger than the other guy. I noticed Logan shooting at the other guys with a pistol, and when I did the guy took me down and…heh, had me at his mercy.” Kick shook his head, a stupid smile on his face. “After that, I saw Logan going to shoot, before thinking better of it and not doing it. He was taken down, and soon we were both at the Feds mercy.”

Kick shook his head, his smirk turning into an angry frown.

“The guy started to ask him a question, and Logan actually seemed like Logan for a second, making a stupid comment just like his brother did.” Kick was forced to stop at Hesh’s protest, but continued soon after. “Then the guy started to say some things that made both of us uncomfortable. When he was done, I think both of us realised he was crazy. Then he started beating Logan. He broke his rib then, and that was when Logan….lost it.” Kick stopped, shaking his head.

He didn’t continue, seeming to need a little push.

“What do you mean, he ‘lost it’, Kick?” This time it was Keegan, looking up from his examination of his brother to put his intimidating stare on Kick.

Kick shook his head again, eyebrows up in slight confusion.

“I…He….He just…lost it. When he got punched in the face again, he snarled and he….I don’t even know how he didn’t feel it, but he rotated his bound hands all the way around and grabbed the hands of the man that was behind him and flipped him over him. He then grabbed two guns and shot the guy on me and another guy – the guy that must have been on you, Hesh. Then he shot the guy that hurt him six times – all in fatal positions. I took care of the rest of the guards and woke Hesh up, all while he just stood there, obviously trying to calm down.”

Hesh took this as his chance to get in there.

“When I went to get him, he nearly broke my wrist. When he realised it was just me, he stumbled back. After saying he was sorry to Kick, I caught him just as he was about to fall over. We checked him over, and with a quick agreement we decided to get him checked up when we were safe. And here we are.”

A moment of silence came upon the group of escapees.

“So, you got caught, Logan saved you and got pretty hurt in the process, and you guys made it here with minimal injury.” Merrick summarised, nodding to himself.

“…Yeah, basically.” Kick answered sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck by their leaders implied meaning.

_‘You don’t have to tell me the whole thing. Just the basics.’_

Well, it looks like they got carried away…again.

“Well, it’s good you got here when you did, because I got to see how he was before any more damage was done. He’s got a dislocated shoulder, broken rib, and it seems his arm hasn’t healed properly.” Keegan stated calmly. “I’ll deal with his shoulder when we get on the plane.”

He frowned, wondering why he hadn’t stated the wrist.

“What about his wrist?” He asked. “Kick said he’d fractured it from how swollen up it is.” It was true, Logan’s wrist looked so swollen that it looked twice its size.

Keegan shook his head. “No, it’s just swollen from how many times he’s been injured there. A lot of cuts and bruises on that particular wrist.” Keegan frowned. “Not sure why it isn’t as bad on the other one, though.”

Hesh frowned. _That’s odd. If anything, it should be close to how injured the other one is._

“Well, we should just hope for the best. We need to get back to base and help him remember. Once we do that we’ll take down Rorke. Don’t worry, Hesh. We’ll make him pay for everything he’s done.” Merrick promised as the team went into a comfortable silence.

_I want to kill that son of a bitch for what he did to my brother._ Hesh thought darkly. _I will make him pay, with or without you, Merrick. He hurt my brother and killed my farther. No one wants to hurt him more than I do._

Hesh looked over to his brother again, a sad frown coming across his face.

_But first, I have to help you, Logan. First, I have to help you regain your memories._

_Then we will take down Rorke once and for all – just like we promised._

/// //// //// //// ///


	5. Chapter 5

**_ Chapter 5: _ **

Logan was dreaming. He knew that. Maybe it was because he knew he couldn’t be there. Maybe it was because he knew it couldn’t be real.

Whatever the case, he knew it wasn’t real because of one thing: he was in a completely different place with a person he knew to be dead.

And with that thought in mind, he realised this to not be a dream, but a memory.

A long lost memory.

One that was about to be his.

They and a couple other people he couldn’t identify were in the middle of a canyon, hiding behind the boulders to avoid being spotted by the Feds, who had just started to make their way upriver after gathering supplies from a Helicopter.

“Okay, looks like they’re moving out.” His farther said, looking at him for a moment. “Head up the stream and stay low.”

He started to make his way forward, staying out of the enemy’s sight as well as moving past the boulders, trying not to slip from the slippery rocks below him.

“Mako, you read? We’re halfway to you.” Elias reported, Logan unsure as to who and why they were calling.

He didn’t have to wait long for the response to come in.

_“Still moving upriver Stalker, but we’ll be there.”_ The voice that came over the com was unfamiliar to him, but he didn’t press.

For he felt close to uncovering what they were doing.

They continued onward before coming to a large clearing with a waterfall to their right and a pathway onward straight ahead.

“More of them turning back this way!” A voice he only heard just an hour before came to him, and he felt himself stiffen.

_Merrick._ Though the voice wasn’t as pained as the last time he’d heard it, he knew it was his.

As to what his past self was doing with them, he didn’t know.

He could be a hostage, but….then why would he feel so fiercely protective over them? That only went to one option, one he wasn’t ready to consider just yet.

Another familiar voice followed right after the first one. “We can hide behind that waterfall.”

_Hesh. If he and Merrick are here, then the rest are the Ghosts. And by little chance I’m trying to escape with them, then what are we doing here?_

“Do it.” Elias’s voice broke out of his thoughts, and his past self immediately followed him, pushing past the flowing water and against the wall between Merrick and Hesh.

“I see ‘em.” Elias reported before giving out an order. “Stay still and let them pass.”

He felt himself freeze, gun slightly raised as the first few men jogged past.

“Don’t move.” Merrick warned, reminding him for no particular reason whatsoever.

As they waited, he felt a light pain spread through his ribs and shoulder where Rorke’s knife had hit him in the shoulder, knowing some of the muscle had been ripped.

_Shit, I’m waking up._ He thought. _I need to see more of this – I have to._

They waited a little longer, Logan feeling the pain start to intensify as well as see his vision start to darken.

_No….No, I can’t leave yet._

“Let’s move before they head back this way.” His farther ordered, Logan rising to his feet as well as the others.

As his past self took a step forward he felt the pain go up a level, as well as his vision turning darker.

_Shit….No….No…._ He tried to fight it, but it only worsened.

The more steps he took, the worse the pain got.

_God damn it. This fucking hurts._

They made it past the waterfall, his vision starting to deteriorate.

_Shit! No!_

“Keep it up.” Elias’s voice sounded faraway as his vision went black. “We’re almost to the river…” The rest of the sentence faded away as pain took him back to the real world.

The world where the sound and bumps of a plane in the air were heard. The world where his whole body ached and the sounds of chatter helped him come to.

The world where someone was holding his left arm with both hands, about to push it back in place.

At that realisation, his free hand snapped over and clamped around the guy’s wrist, eyes open in a flash.

The man had a mask covering his face, making identification impossible. The mask was slightly familiar, but the only thing he could get from it was that this man was one of the Ghosts.

And that was all he needed to feel his hurting muscles tense up. 

The man stopped his assault on his dislocated shoulder, staring at him dead in the eyes, his blue ones a little surprized but full of warning.

_It seems he knows a threat when he sees one._ He thought. _Looks like he knows me too. Wouldn’t be surprized if he was with us at that waterfall._

He stared at the man with the same warning gaze, telling him that if he even dared to put it in place he would kill him. Unlikely, but he didn’t want him to know that.

We stared at each other for a while, the same warning gaze that neither would oblige to turn away first.

He found the man to be staring at him with warning but….he couldn’t explain it. There was something there….like….worry…

A weird sensation filled his gut, something that he knew wasn’t the pain from his ribs. It was something else….Something that reminded him of somewhere…

He took in a sharp breath, an inhaled gasp as an image broke through his mind.

He was in the water, stuck beneath some debris with his breathing tube swirling about in the water, the same guy that was in front of him in outside of his peripheral vision.

He took in another sharp breath as he found himself staring at the guy again, the man not looking at him with warning, but with confusion. He stared at the man in the same confusion, feeling a name slowly come to him.

_K….Ke….Keegan…_ He looked at the man in the eye, suspicion and confusion evident on his face. _I don’t know how I know, but your name’s Keegan. Keegan, I don’t know you as well as you think. Yes, I just had a snapshot but I’m not going to consider that I’m your friend yet. Can you stop looking at me with that worried face?_

“Keegan, what’s taking you so long?” Hesh’s voice filled his ears, Logan only just noticing that the chatter had stopped.

A moment of silence where Keegan stared at him some more. The Ghost finally turned his intimidating stare over his shoulder.

“He’s awake.” No elaboration as to what happened. Just an answer.

It made him realise this man wasn’t much of a talker like the rest of them were.

“What?” The voice he had heard in the dream/memory filled his ears, disbelief evident in his voice.

_Yes, dumbass, I’m awake. This guy doesn’t seem like the joking type. Now can you please tell me what you know and then let me out?_

Footsteps of a few people came rushing over, and Logan suddenly felt the urge to get away. _No, stay back. Go away._

He didn’t voice his thoughts, but only because of sheer willpower.

A man’s face popped over Keegan’s shoulder, and he realised it to be Hesh, the one that had had the face paint over his face.

_Well damn. He looks different without it on. That’s something I didn’t expect._

Hesh only stared at him, confusion slowly coming to his face.

_Shit, I must have a whole lot of emotions on my face._ Logan shut it down, all emotions blocked from coming onto his face, making it a mask. _That’s better._

Hesh’s confusion only deepened, though he didn’t let it rest on Logan, something he was grateful for. The Ghost turned to Keegan, who had also been staring at him.

“Is he ok? The injuries were pretty bad…” Hesh trailed off as he looked back at Logan, seeming to lose his trail of thought.

_Why don’t you ask me that? I’m right here, you know!_

Keegan snorted, a noise that was slightly muffled from the mask. “Why don’t you ask him that?”

_I’m thinking the same thing, Keegan._

Hesh clenched his teeth, sending a small glare at Keegan before staring at him yet again.

“Are…” The man shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of some thoughts. “Are you ok, Logan?”

Logan analysed the Ghost as he asked the question, almost frowning as he watched the man shift, avoid eye contact, and even sound uncertain with the question.

It was like he had been wanting to ask something else.

_Or he’s nervous._ The voice came to him instantly, and it almost made perfect sense.

_Almost._

Hesh was shuffling around, avoiding eye contact, and even looking worried, as well as the question within the question. But the real question is, why was he nervous?

And why did he seem to have a mask like he was, ridding his true emotions with another one? It was smart, but he could see through it.

And that was only because he was doing it himself.

_Or you know him too well._ He tensed, taking in a sharp breath.

_What the fuck? That doesn’t even make sense!_

Logan realised he had drifted into his thoughts, and he immediately snapped out of it, looking up at Hesh’s now slightly worried face.

_Well, the question right now is do I talk? Well, if I did, I would tell them I can’t move my shoulder without it hurting, my ribs feel like shit, my head hurts, my ears are ringing, and my other arm feels like something’s torn through the muscle – oh wait, it did! So, if I’m correct, I would say I’ve dislocated my left arm, broken a rib and bruised a couple more, got a concussion that’s causing the headache and ringing ears, and gotten a knife through my shoulder muscle, which was a present from that bastard Rorke!_

When he finished the rant in his head, he realised who he presumed to be Kick and Merrick had made it into his line of vision.

But they were all staring at him with a frown.

Logan himself frowned, before he realised what he just did.

_You’ve got to be kidding me._

He groaned, automatically pushing his right hand through his hair, making it become an actual groan as his shoulder sent a sharp pain through his arm and up his neck.

“I did not just say that out loud.” That was all he said as he closed his eyes, his hand resting on his stomach.

_My stomach._

He looked down, finding himself shirtless and in his ripped and torn federation pants, which had been cut off so he only had the blue camo pants up to his knees. Rather than seeing his ribs he found a long white hospital roll wrapped around his midsection, which only made the pain worse.

A thought came to him, and he frowned. _So they’ve seen the scars. Wonder how they feel about it._

His frown deepened. _Why would I care? These guys are just people I won’t be hanging around, nothing else!_

There was a long silence, the six men just sitting/crouching/standing there, listening to the plane and the objects that rattled when it made a slightly sharper turn.

Keegan stood, crossing his arms. “Well, that sums your injuries up. Though you didn’t mention the wrists.”

Logan looked down at his wrists to see that one looked about twice its size while the other was slightly raised.

_Can’t tell you that, nor will you make me do so._ He kept his mouth shut, refusing to meet any one of the Ghost’s gaze. _That’s for me to know and for you to find out._

The Ghost waited for a minute before his voice filled Logan’s ears. “Well, if you don’t want to talk about that, then can you answer this? Who gave you the scars?”

Logan made an annoyed face, unable to mask his distaste on the conversation. _I could, but I’d rather not replay the memories._ His thoughts made a sudden turn in agreement. _No, you should tell them, they are your friends after all._

_No they’re not, they’re just a group against the Federation._ He argued, frowning.

_No, they’re your friends. You should tell them._ The voice demanded, suddenly turning aggressive, which sent a jolt of pain through his brain.

_No, they’re not._

_Yes they are!_ The voice was louder this time, which only made him wince as a pain worse than before filled his head yet again.

_No they’re not!_

_YES THEY ARE!_ The voice was so loud and hurt him so bad that he couldn’t help but show it, making a sound he didn’t recognise.

“No they aren’t!” He yelled, clutching his head, unable to feel the pain from his physical wounds, rather getting mental pain worse than he’d ever felt before.

“Hey! Logan! Logan, you’re here, you’re ok. Logan!” Hesh’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he immediately went out of mental mode, his arms falling to his sides and face suddenly slack and exhausted.

He suddenly felt angry as the Ghost’s stared at him, Hesh’s hand on his ankle. _Shit! You’ve got to be kidding me! Could this day get any worse?_

“Ah fuck.” He stated, puffing out a breath in disgust. “There we go, another five points to the people-that-have-seen-me-have-a-mental-breakdown list. Some even think I’m crazy.” His attempt to lighten the mood failed miserably, the men all staring at him warily and with worry.

_And shit hits the fan._

As he opened his mouth to speak yet again, something stopped him.

A noise. A noise that was getting closer and closer.

Logan paled, and he immediately went to rise, only to fall back and slide back down the wall, the pain from his ribs making the best of him.

“Woah, easy-” He cut Keegan off.

“Plane! We need to go!” His words failed him as he tried to get up again, only to fall back down again.

“Logan, what do you…?” Merrick had started, only to trail off as the noise intensified, allowing all Ghost’s to hear.

“Shit! Grab your parachutes and earpieces! We need to move!” Merrick ordered before helping him up, something he was grateful for.

The rest of the team went ahead, grabbing their parachutes and earpieces before grabbing their weapons, all under the strain of twenty seconds.

Logan limped forward, Merrick helping him along as he grabbed the railing to the storage and held himself there, unable to move his dislocated arm.

_Damn it._ He thought, sighing. _This is going to hurt, but I’m going to need to use it if we’re going out there._

“Push it in.” He told Merrick, staring at him as he grabbed the two remaining parachutes and earpieces, pushing said earpiece into his ear.

“What?” Merrick stopped what he was doing and turned to him, Logan very aware of the fact that the noise was getting louder and therefore closer by the second.

“Put it in.” Logan jutted his thumb out to his dislocated shoulder, breathing heavily despite the fact he had barely moved.

Merrick stood there for a moment before taking the step that was between them and grabbing his arm. He didn’t even count to three before pushing it back in place.

Logan gritted his teeth and flinched, making a low groan as pain spread through his arm.

“Fuck. That hurt more than expected.” He commented, before testing out both of his arms.

They hurt, but it would have to do.

It was life or death after all.

Merrick held out the last earpiece, parachute and something that looked to be made out of black cloth. He grabbed the three things and immediately realised the cloth was a shirt.

He glanced up at Merrick, eyes narrowed.

The Ghost only nodded at the black shirt. “Trust me, you’re going to need it.

_Needing it, sure. Trust, not so much._ With that in mind, he went to work.

He put the earpiece in his ear and pulled the shirt on, going much slower than he would have liked as his ribs screamed at him to stop.

_Keep it up, keep it going._

After what seemed like forever, he finally had the shirt on, which was just plain black.

_Not too shabby._ He thought, before frowning. _I wonder how they knew my size…_

“Let’s move.” Merrick ordered, who was now with the rest of his squad at the plane’s door, starting to open it.

Logan quickly put the parachute on his back before limping over to the Ghost’s, ignoring the pain in his ribs and shoulders as he continued on his way.

As he reached them he was met with a strong wind that nearly blew him over, as well as the almost deafening sound of multiple helicopters.

Merrick clutched the doorway, trying to hold himself steady against the strong wind.

“Ok team, we need to get down there as fast as possible. When we do, we need to find each other and locate a safe place to go before we call in an extraction. Let’s move.” Merrick ordered, before jumping out of the plane and into the wind.

A few precious moments passed with everyone staring at each other.

Keegan stepped forward and into the doorway, turning back and setting his eyes on him. “You heard the man. Let’s move!” He too was soon taken away in the wind, and he realised it was just him, Hesh and Kick.

Logan nodded to Kick, gesturing to the doorway. “Go!”

The Ghost didn’t have to think twice. He jumped out of the doorway without hesitation, and he soon realised there wasn’t much time left before the helicopters took the flying vehicle down.

He looked at Hesh, and Hesh looked at him. They stayed like that, and many thoughts raced through his mind.

_I feel like I know you, but I know I don’t – it’s not possible. I don’t want to be in this war. If I get down there, I’m not going to you. Even if I feel safe, even if it feels wrong to leave, I won’t come with you or your team._

With his mind set, he nodded at Hesh, getting him into a false sense of security. _Yeah, you think I’m with you, when really I’m not. I’m the guy that’s leaving, even if chances are worse out there than with you._

Logan moved towards the door, gripping the handle to stay steady. He looked over his shoulder to Hesh, and he felt his heartrate spike.

The feeling was back. The feeling of….something reminding him of something….a memory….

He didn’t get a chance to dwell on it before hands met his back. He lost his grip on the doorway and was sent free-falling through the air.

But not before his eyes set on the slightly panicked face of the Ghost in the doorway.

And the sound of an explosion tearing through his eardrums and sending him plummeting through the air at even higher speeds than before.

/// //// //// //// ///

**_David “Hesh” Walker_ **

/// //// //// //// ///

**~Time Passed: None~**

Hesh flew through the air, crying out as a burning pain spread through his arm. His cry was lost in the wind, but the pain wasn’t.

And neither was the wreckage that he was certain was about to hit him. 

Hesh had only heard the sound of a missile coming towards them just as he shoved his brother out the door. He had had so many thoughts on what to do, but the only thing that really mattered was that Logan would be ok.

And ok he was.

He had seen him flying through the air, and he knew they had locked gazes for just a second before the missile struck.

He didn’t regret his decision. He didn’t regret anything, really. He just wished Logan had hurried up instead of waiting in the doorway for longer than necessary.

Then he wouldn’t be in this pain. This pain that was burning his skin.

Hesh gritted his teeth as he moved it, trying to see if he could rid of the pain.

He was met with something that made him queasy.

The flames he had expected had been vanquished by the winds that were roaring in his ears. But his arm….well, it had something in it. A piece of metal had been thrown into his wrist, and _god_ was it hot. It burned, and he knew it was burning things it shouldn’t have access to.

That was why it had to go.

Hesh grabbed the metal that was halfway through his wrist, his wrist definitely broken by the way it shot off more pain then it should have.

_Ok, you can do this. Just pull it out. That’s all you have to do._

Hesh gritted his teeth as he pulled on the large piece of metal, pain rushing through his wrist as it moved an inch.

_Faster!_

He was about to pull harder when something slammed into his back, sending him plummeting faster through the air.

_Shit! The debris are everywhere!_

Hesh didn’t go back to his task, instead turning to see how many there were. Loads of debris from the plane were coming down, the larger bit of the plane making a smoke line as it tore through the air towards their last destination before they retreated.

_Thank god that’s not coming at me._ He thought with relief. _I would be dead for sure if it was._

Hesh looked back at the debris again, and he realised if he pulled his parachute it would be destroyed in moments. He turned back towards the ground and realised he had to pull the parachute now of he would be a pancake.

_I have to do it. If I don’t, I’ll be dead for sure. If I do pull it, I’ll have a chance._

With his thoughts made up, Hesh pulled the cord to his chute.

His whole body jolted upward as the parachute was fully deployed, and he was immediately pulled around by the wind, though it wasn’t as rough as before.

It sent fresh pain up his wrist, but he knew he couldn’t do anything about it just yet. For he had more important matters to attend to.

Like surviving.

Hesh tried to steer his way out of the way of the falling debris, but some still got caught on his chute, making his fall a little less steady.

He continued to do this until he saw the first sign of trees. With the speeds he was going at he knew it wasn’t going to be a great landing.

And a great landing it wasn’t.

He only had the time to hold up his arms to protect face before he slammed into branch after branch, the whole ideal sending agony up his wrist and new pain everywhere else. He squeezed his eyes shut, his face scrunching up in pain as the waves of branches continued.

He felt his parachute snag on the branches just as the waves stopped, his parachute having him suspending in open air.

Hesh felt relief course thought him.

He was alive.

Debris came crashing down through the trees, and he could only hang there with a tense body as they continued to come down like rain.

Then they stopped.

Hesh waited a few moments, and when nothing happened he slowly let his body relax.

_That was a close one._ He thought as he looked over the debris of the plane, which was everywhere around him. _Now I have to find the team…and Logan._

_Logan._ When he nodded at him, he knew he was trying to reassure him of everything, or him coming back to them when they got down here.

And Hesh knew it was an illusion. He knew his brother too well, even more than he did.

_Well…not anymore._ Hesh felt himself slacken and show his sadness as he thought of his brother. _He’s been hurt and…well, he’s changed._

Hesh shook his head to rid of the thoughts before going back to the topic at hand.

He had seen right through it, and now he had to find him before the Feds did.

And it would be even harder now he was injured. But it would also be slightly easier now his brother was injured.

He knew it was sick to think it good he was injured, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly relieved. For if he wasn’t injured, he knew he wouldn’t be able to find him.

And to him, that would be the end of the world.

Hesh reached for his belt, grabbing a knife and ripping off the straps to his parachute in one swift movement, falling to the ground below him.

He landed badly, rolling his ankle while trying to land on two feet and ending up on his behind. He winced as he touched his injured ankle, hissing and swiftly moving his hand back as pain raced through it.

_Damn, I’ve sprained it. Well….at least I didn’t break it._ He looked at his right wrist, which was currently rolling out with blood, the way it was half in and the smell of burnt flesh making him queasy. _Now to get rid of this._

Hesh put the knife back in his belt before grabbing the burning metal, wincing as it brought another wave of pain.

_Ok, three…._ Hesh got a firmer grip on the metal, ignoring the pain he received from the action. _Two…._ He let his shoulders tense, ready to pull out his burden. _One…._ He braced himself for what was to come. _Now!_ He ripped out the metal, chucking it beside him and groaning as agony raced through his wrist and up his arm.

He quickly reached behind him with his good hand and grabbed his last long white hospital roll – something that was sure to stop himself from bleeding out. He quickly unclipped it with ease and grabbed the end with his teeth, rolling it out to as long as he could before letting go and wrapping it around the wound, hissing as the pain from his broken wrist played up when he put any pressure on it.

After a minute of hissing, groaning and slight frustration, he finally ended the torture of pain and securing the blood flow into his hand, _not_ the forest floor.

After he checked his work and made sure it was ok, he sighed, pulling himself up to the nearest tree and sitting against it, letting himself having a moments rest and some time to think.

_I’m out here alone, and I’m sure everyone else is. Logan is going to try to run, so if I can get any chance to find him, I need to find the others. Merrick said to call in, so that’s what I’m going to have to do._

Hesh held his good hand up to his earpiece, activating it. A whole bunch of voices filled his ears, and he was glad to find out his team was ok.

_“Hesh, Logan, you read?”_ Merrick’s voice filled the coms, and Hesh was about to respond when another voice beat him to it.

_“Merrick, I’m sure they would have called in by now….well, Hesh would have. Not sure about Logan; you know him.”_ Keegan tried to get it through to them, obviously prepared for the worst.

_“We don’t know the real Logan anymore, Keegan. He was taken by Rorke and now he’s acting strange. We don’t even know if he’s going to go on with the plan or run away.”_ Kick stated, and Hesh took his chance to get in there.

“Merrick, its Hesh. You read?” He asked, though he already knew what the answer would be.

_“Hesh, is it good to hear your voice. Are you ok? It took you a while to get on.”_ Merrick asked, his voice laced with relief and concern.

“Broke my wrist and twinged my ankle, but otherwise I’m fine. Not sure the same is for Logan though…” He trailed off, lots of possibilities for his brother’s state filling his mind.

He didn’t bother going into the statistics of what he had done to his wrist, knowing it was worse than just a break.

_“What, are you with him?”_ It was Keegan this time, and he shook his head, only to remember they couldn’t see that.

“No, but I can only imagine what he could have injured further….” Hesh shook his head before getting back to his main objective. “Are you guys together?”

_“I’m with Keegan, and we’re making our way over to Kick. You think you can get over to us? We’re north of your location.”_ Merrick asked, sounding slightly worried.

_That’s new. Not like you to sound like that._

Hesh tested his foot out, wincing as pain raced up it when he pushed down. “I could, but I’ll need to wait for my ankle to stop playing up. As soon as it’s ok I’ll tell you.”

_“Copy that, Hesh. Stay there until its ok, then we’ll meet up.”_ He almost thought the message was over before Merrick started warning him again. _“Be careful, the place is crawling with Federation soldiers. Be sure to defend yourself.”_ With that said his communication system were silent, but his mind wasn’t.

For he could only think of one thing.

_Be safe, Logan._

/// //// //// //// ///


	6. Chapter 6

**_ Chapter 6: _ **

Logan hung in the tree his parachute had been sagged on, trying to get rid of the agony in every inch of his body before making a move to the forest floor.

After Hesh had pushed him out the door, he had been falling for a long time. He had pulled his chute a considerably large distance from the ground, but he had still managed to have a rather rough and uncomfortable landing, one that consisted of deadly branches and falling debris.

Fortunately, he hadn’t been hit with any falling debris from the fall, though he had managed to get cut on the way down the canopy – something he doesn’t ever want to repeat, especially with broken ribs, a concussion, and other minor injuries.

Logan blinked in his daze, trying to get a sense of what was happening and where he was. _God, that fall hurt like a bitch – it still does._

He shook his head, trying to rid the dizziness, only making his body protest and his eyesight go dark.

_Ah, shit. That didn’t do anything great._ After waiting twenty seconds, he turned to look at the straps of his parachute, which he realised was a bad thing. _Shit. I don’t have anything to cut it with. If I have to do what I think I have to, I’m going to puke._

It was true. He did feel like shit. Deep, dog shit that wasn’t going to leave him be until he had recovered from the nausea that had taken hold of his body – and all because of his injuries. They were making him feel pain to the point where he wanted to throw up the contents of his already empty stomach.

Logan checked what he had on his belt slowly, coming back disappointed. _Damn. Looks like I’m going to have to do this the hard way._

He was getting into position when something metal caught his eye from above, the metal coming down and ripping through one of the straps to his chute, sending him rocketing sideways, falling out of the other strap a moment later.

He landed on his side, agony racing through him as the breath he had been taking hitched in his throat, Logan now choking and coughing in his way to find some air.

He lay there for some time, groaning and trying to find some way to get the pain to stop. When the pain finally subsided, he sat up slowly, his head spinning.

_What the fuck was that?_ The question still hung in his mind like a loose string holding a coin. _Whatever it was, it was sharp._ _Maybe I could use it if I run into trouble._

Logan looked around slowly, and smirked at what he found sticking out of the ground, handle up.

_And the penny drops._ He thought in wonderment, shaking his head with a smirk plastered on his face as he stared at the knife that stuck halfway through the ground. _Luck is on my side._ _I’ll definitely be using that._

He slowly crawled to the knife, unable to get to his feet just yet. _The pain will distract me from any enemies. Plus, I might just pass out from it._ With those thoughts in mind, Logan ripped out the knife with minimal pain and looked around for a safe spot where he could rest.

_There!_ He thought with triumph, his eyes glued to a large rock that he could rest on. _Now to get there._ He finished the thought with a frown, gazing at the sharp and deadly debris sticking out of the ground.

He started his journey slowly, gritting his teeth as he pulled himself along, the pain in his ribs intensifying as he dragged himself along. _Keep going._ He willed himself, determination coursing through his veins.

Logan grunted as his dislocated shoulder started to play up, though he knew it wasn’t as bad as everything else. _It’s good I got that back in there, or I wouldn’t be able to move it at all._

He reached the boulder without any enemy activity, and, groaning and panting like shit, pulled himself up, leaning against it and finally allowing himself to rest.

_Urrgh….That was a shit journey. Too bad I’m going to have to do it all again – and standing at that!_ He groaned as his ribs protested yet again. _I’m going to have to wait for now – wait for the pain to bypass a bit._

Logan lay back against the rock, just listening to his breathing before realising he had forgotten something. _The earpiece! I should turn it on – it’ll help me know where everyone is._ He dragged his right hand up with hardly any pain and pressed a button.

He was met with static, which frustrated him. _Damn it! It can’t be broken!_

He was relieved when the static slowly started to subside, but was disappointed when no one was talking.

He frowned. _Damn. It’s either they’ve already talked or this thing is on the wrong channel._

Logan didn’t do anything though, figuring it was better to wait than talk. _I can’t talk or I’ll be stuck with them knowing I’m running – something I would rather have them figure out later rather than sooner._

He waited to what seemed like hours, breathing with a little difficulty while gripping the knife like it was his only weapon, which was basically true.

In reality, it only lasted a few minutes.

Logan frowned. _No talking. No movement. Maybe I am on the wrong channel. Ah, who cares. If I want to get away now, I should leave quickly. They probably saw where I landed, so it’d be best if I leave as quickly as possible._

With that thought in mind, he counted to three.

Then he pushed up.

Every muscle in his body was screaming at him to stop, to just stop before he passed out. But he willed himself onward, only with sheer willpower keeping him going. Soon he was sitting up, panting and gasping for breath.

That was when he heard it.

_“Logan?”_

His name from his earpiece. He had no idea how they could hear his movement and currently gasping breath, but he knew it wouldn’t be hard to figure out.

In that moment, he figured it out.

The earpiece’s had two modes, the ‘Open Talk’ mode currently flicked on.

_Well, fuck._ He thought, angry at his stupidly. _There goes my passage to the easy road._

_“Logan, is that you? Are you there?”_ He could hear the voice, and realised it had a tiny hint of hope in there.

_Like I would have died. I’ve been through far worse than this._ He frowned. _And how would I know that?_ The previous thought was quickly obliterated, making him clench his fist so tight around the knife his knuckles went white. _Fuck this shit. My memories are really starting to get on my nerves._

_“Logan! If your there, say something! Anything!”_ Hesh. He knew it was his voice now. It had taken him a while to pinpoint it, but now he had it.

It was Hesh who was speaking. It was Hesh who was speaking in a slightly worried, pained and hopeful voice.

It was Hesh.

It was like everything had just turned to mush. He was suddenly overjoyed, enthusiastic and just so glad Hesh was here, that he was talking to his brother after all this time-

Then the feeling was gone, replaced with a confused and frustrated look.

_Brother? What the fuck? There’s no way that guy is my brother – there’s no fucking way. And that feeling…. Eurgh! Just forget it, you’re going to get angry, then accidently say something, then-_

A stick snapping brought his attention, and suddenly he was ducking behind the large rock he’d been leaning on, going into autopilot as he crouched, feeling pain but not quite registering it.

And, in that one thought, he realised he wasn’t being himself; the guy he had been just a few seconds ago.

He was in survival mode, where everyone else was his enemy.

“Hello?” The voice, he registered as Merrick’s, slightly pained.

_I wonder if he’s hurt himself on the way down…_

“Hesh? Logan? You over there?”

He heard a few steps come crunching closer, and Logan slowly made his way around the rock, silently scolding himself for waiting too long.

_There could be more of them here!_ He thought suddenly, before freezing in place. _And that can only mean one thing…._

Logan turned, only to find two of the Ghost’s standing there, Keegan with his arms crossed and Kick holding a Bulldog.

He didn’t waste his time with how they got the weapons, knowing they much have found some of the Federation around here. He only wondered how they knew he would try to get away.

He checked the Ghost’s over in a quick sweep without even realising it.

_Ok, Kick’s seems to be limping, so he must have hurt his ankle or something. Keegan seems fine, considering falling and getting slapped by the canopy. Judging by the way Merrick called out, I know he’s hurt. So, if I want to get away from these guys, I’m going to have to damage the injured spots on Merrick and Kick. Keegan…. He’ll be a little trouble._ He frowned. _Well, not that I can try to escape with my injuries. I could barely crawl over here; just standing would be an obstacle to climb over._ He sighed, throwing the knife on the ground in defeat. Game over. _They’ve got me._

Keegan uncrossed his arms and picked up the knife, seeming to frown at his behaviour. _You and me both, Keegan._

“Found Logan, Merrick! Had a knife on him.” Kick called out, to which Merrick was suddenly beside them, checking him over.

Logan noticed the way Merrick was holding his weapon, an SC-2010, awkwardly, one hand on the trigger while the other was sort of cradling it to his chest, like he was unable to hold it correctly.

_Broken wrist._ He found the answer immediately, and he almost felt sorry for him. _I’ve had one before; not a great experience._

“Where did he get that?” Merrick asked, the question directed at Kick.

“The air. Flew down and cut my parachute strap. Not a great landing; I don’t recommend it with my injuries.” Logan noticed how his voice sounded a bit rough and scratchy, though it seemed a little......off.

He placed a hand to his throat, feeling a sharp pain come from the back of his neck. He winced, which didn’t go unnoticed by the Ghosts.

“What’s up?” Keegan asked, shrugging off what Logan knew to be the question of ‘Why were you trying to escape?’

“Just a burn. Jumped off the plane a little late.” He decided he’d cooperate for the time being, but he knew that if he did stay with them, he wouldn’t talk to them.

And he definitely wouldn’t tell them about the wrists; that was his information, not anyone else’s.

“Did you jump first? Before Hesh?” Kick jumped at the chance to talk to him, to which Logan didn’t reply.

_Someone else you know can talk to you and tell you that._

“Hesh? You there?” He asked into his earpiece, expecting a reply.

No answer.

“Hesh?”

Nothing.

“Did you hear him before, Logan?” Merrick asked him, crouching in front of him.

“Yeah, didn’t you?” They all shook their heads.

_Oh shit._

“Hesh! Hesh, you read?”

He waited a while, and just as he was about to go again, a low groan sounded.

_“Logan? That you?”_

Logan bit back a sigh of relief, knowing he couldn’t show the Ghost’s any sort of emotion – knowing that if he did, they would jump at the chance to get through to him.

“Yeah. You ok? I’ve been trying to contact you for five minutes.”

_I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care._ He repeated, trying to sound monotone when he spoke, but failing badly.

_“Is Merrick and Keegan there?”_ Hesh sounded slightly panicked, and Logan knew something was wrong.

“Yeah. What channel is this?” Logan changed the subject, knowing the man was trying not to talk to him.

_“Channel 1372. I was flicking through the channels before and found you on this one.”_ There was something off about Hesh. He didn’t know how, but he knew.

And he wanted all of the Ghost’s to know it too.

_Channel 1372._ He mouthed to the other Ghost’s, to which they immediately changed their current channel.

“Hesh! Are you ok? Where are you?” Merrick’s voice cut through his earpiece and reality, making him wince from the throb his head received.

_“I’m fine. I’m still where I landed, though. I’m planning to move soon.”_ Hesh’s voice said through the Channel, and Logan still couldn’t help but get an uneasy feel.

_They’ve got him. Oh god, they’ve so got him._

He shook his head at the Ghost’s, where they stared at him, almost confused. _He doesn’t seem right._ He mouthed, to which they frowned.

_‘He doesn’t seem too bad.’_ Kick mouthed back, to which he shook his head again. _Go on, whatever he was doing back there, ask him what he was doing and why. Make it a trivia._

And Merrick made it just that.

“What were you doing back there, Hesh?” The leader of the Ghost’s asked, making Logan make a tiny smile.

_He trust’s my judgement. Why is unknown, but I know he does. It’s in all of them. But I know they’re wary of my capabilities; probably why they found me before Hesh._

There was a moment of silence on Hesh’s end before the earpiece buzzed to life.

_“I was just checking my equipment. Like I said, I was going to tell you when I left to go find you. Don’t worry, I was just about to leave anyway.”_

There was something about that sentence that bothered him, itching at the edge of his mind as to what it was.

Then the wall broke like it was made of paper.

It was a cover for what he had said. ‘Don’t worry, I was just about to leave anyway’ is a cover for ‘they got me and I’m in deep shit.’ ‘Just checking my equipment’ could have some truth, but the voice – slightly urgent – made the statement seem false and fake. The second statement told truth, yet Logan knew Hesh and any other operative would have done the same: to reassure their captors that they were telling the truth if they had said that, which he believed Hesh had with the tense look on the other Ghost’s faces.

With that being said, he knew Hesh was being held captive by the Federation.

Logan shared a look with the three Ghost’s, all of their gazes saying the same thing: We need to find him.

And even if he wasn’t in their team and even tried to get away from them, he couldn’t help but feel an instinct so pure and powerful that he couldn’t fight it.

_Save Hesh._

That was his new mission, a mission that for some reason was held higher than anything else he had on his mind.

And it was exactly what he planned to do.

“Where are you? We’ll come get you.” Merrick changed his voice an inch, to where it sounded slightly reassuring and, like he’d been talking since the whole time he’d met him – _in this time_ , he reminded himself – commanding.

Logan also caught the ‘we’ll come get you’, which really meant ‘we’ll come save you.’

It was _genius_. And _god_ did he love it.

“I’m North of your location,” Hesh answered after a slight pause, presumably to see where they were. There was a slight hesitation that no one else would have noticed but him. “Good luck. I’ll see you guys soon.”

Logan couldn’t help but feel like he would have said something more, something that would have made them laugh. But there was nothing, which could only further prove the point that Hesh had indeed been captured….

Well, for now, anyway.

Logan switched his earpiece onto ‘Manual Talk’, watching the others do the same before any of them talked.

When they had done just that, Merrick spoke up.

“Looks like Logan’s right. They’ve got him.” He shook his head in disappointment, seemingly angry at himself. “We should have gone to him first, then we might not be in this mess.”

Logan frowned, knowing that that was absolute bullshit.

_If you had gone to Hesh first, I would be long gone by now!_

By the way Keegan looked, he agreed with him.

“Merrick, if we hadn’t gotten here at the time we did, Logan wouldn’t even be here right now! He would have gone off on some crazy journey to get away from everyone by the way he was trying not to get found by you!” Keegan scolded his leader, to which Merrick looked like he was about to retaliate.

But he got in first.

“Guys, can you shut up? Please? We’ve got better things to worry about right now. What’s done is done, and we can only move forward, not into the past,” He waited for any of the two to turn on him, but it never came. “Good. We can discuss this later, when there aren’t as many ears listening and a teammate that’s been caught. Now, for the real business.” He took a deep breath before he continued. “So, Hesh is in trouble. We all know that by now. But the question is, how are we going to get him back? Is there any plan of action?”

Kick spoke up. “We could go in with stealth and get him back with a surprize attack! Then exit the same way!”

Logan thought about it, suddenly realising he was leaning against the rock, not crouching. _Well, it could work, but would it be the best idea? We could go through this undergrowth with stealth, like they think we would, and then act like we didn’t know they had called…...no, that wouldn’t work. They would catch us too. Well, we could always evaluate on that plan…._

“Any other suggestions?” He asked the other two Ghost’s, who were looking thoughtful and angry.

_Who wouldn’t be? Their enemy has taken one of their own. Hell, I’ve been with them for about an hour conscious and_ I’m _angry._

“We could sneak up to Hesh’s location, then have one of us go into the open and announce their presence. Then, when the Fed’s try to catch the person there, the rest of us go in.” Keegan suggested, though he sounded uncertain at the end, like he was missing something.

Merrick nodded. “Yeah, we could do that, but wait until Hesh is in sight. Then we go in and kill the fuckers.” Merrick then looked thoughtful. “Then we make our way to the nearest river, where we will travel on foot until we can get proper signal and call for Evac. The signal’s shit out here.”

Logan and the others nodded, agreeing with his last statement.

_Well…. I might try to escape again. No guarantees._

Logan tried to get up then, but immediately felt agony race through his joints, making him fall back against the rock again.

_Well, this will be embarrassing._ He thought, before asking the question the Ghost’s had been waiting him to ask, for they were all staring intently at him.

“Well, with our action plan sorted out, we’re going to need to start moving now. That being said, I…” He hesitated, feeling sheepish. “I might need a bit of help with that.”

Keegan immediately held out a hand, to which he grabbed and was soon hauled to his feet, cursing when pain shot through his ribs and aching joints.

“Thanks.” He mumbled, looking away as he found his footing, Keegan wrapping his arm around his shoulder, letting him lean on him.

The Ghost didn’t respond, but he knew the man had heard him, despite the ignorance.

_So he’s quiet and a little rude. I can role with that for the time being._

Merrick nodded the ok, to which they both nodded back.

_Let’s get this show on the road._

And, with that, the four men walked into the undergrowth, the darkness swallowing them whole.

/// //// //// //// ///


	7. Chapter 7

**_ Chapter 7: _ **

Hesh felt, in one word, like a load of shit. They’d found him in the worst of times, attacked him when he had just started to hear some groaning and panting and called out to who he knew was Logan, and even forced him to make a call he didn’t want to make.

Now he would have _gladly_ given his life for his team, but they said they would have tortured him, not killed him.

They also said they would kill his brother.

So, given the circumstances with him not knowing his brother was ok, he did as he was told.

And he found out Logan was calling out to him, despite everything he had thought he would be doing.

And that was when he realised the rest of them were with him.

But, instead of the panic that they would all get caught, he felt a calmness that he had never experienced before.

They were all together. They had Logan with them. If he planned the conversation out properly, they would come for him and they would all get away.

He groaned first, to give some sort of warning to stay in code.

And he knew he understood. Not at first, but his brother slowly started to figure it out.

That was how the conversation started.

When Logan asked what channel he was on, he knew he was starting to get it, as well as try to get the other Ghost’s on the line and change the subject.

He knew his brother was smart, but not _that_ smart. Logan was changing the subject to leave out important questions, which just made his life a whole lot easier. And he was giving short replies, leaving out even more confidential information. He didn’t know if he was doing it on purpose, but he knew it was something he could work with quite nicely.

After Merrick got on the line and he answered, there was a bit of a delay in talking, which Hesh knew they were discussing things without actually talking.

So when Merrick asked him what he was doing back here, he knew someone had figured it out.

And somehow, he knew it was Logan.

He used code, which was followed by more code. When they asked where he was, he had to look up at the group leader, who was holding a gun to his head, and signal which direction they were.

The dick told him with ease, and he immediately ended the conversation with more code.

And now, standing in the middle of the debris-ridden clearing with the five Fed’s surrounding the place just inside the undergrowth, he felt angry and hopeful, yet worried all at once.

_Logan seemed pained when I was talking. I just wish I could go and find him, but it’s better if they come to me with these fuckers holding me captive. But with the team on his side and sticking by him, I’m sure they’ll be ok and help me out._

In that moment, he heard a rustle in the undergrowth in front of him, and Hesh immediately switched on.

The figure suddenly stumbled through the last layer and out into the clearing in front of him, holding his side and hunched over in pain, holding a knife in hid tight hand in a battle-like style.

Hesh analysed the brown hair, the angry yet pained blue eyes, and the ripped blue camo pants and now ripped black T-shirt they had provided him less than half-an-hour ago.

_Logan._

His brother had blood dripping down his face from a cut above his eye and another just above the right side of his chin. The rest of him had various bruises and cuts all around his body, most of them presents from the fall and journey through the forest.

Logan looked up and grinned, taking a shaky step forward.

“Found you.”

And, with Hesh’s look of shock and horror, he realised his team had used Logan as the guineapig.

Or they didn’t know he was here.

And Hesh could only hope they knew he was here.

For now, him and his _brother’s_ life and sanity was on the line…. if they hadn’t lost it yet.

/// //// //// //// ///

**_Logan Walker_ **

/// //// //// //// ///

**~Time Passed: None~**

Logan, to say, was pretty happy with himself, besides scaring the shit out of Hesh for some odd reason, and _volunteering_ to go in himself.

The Ghost team was, he knew, figuring out where the Federation soldiers were, which he knew were surrounding the clearing, the five of them just inside the undergrowth. The reason he knew that was by the glint of their weapons in the sun, which was just about heating him up like an oven.

About the volunteering part…. Well, he hadn’t _exactly_ been thinking straight, but for some reason he was still set firmly on that side of the battle in his mind; _protect him, save Hesh._ He and the Ghost’s had been talking about the plan when it came to who would go in and distract the Feds. Logan said he would straight up, which caused an argument to break out.

Merrick, being the leader and all, silenced the group before asking him if he really wanted to do this, to which Logan made a long and very good point to get past.

If was mainly about how they wouldn’t have to be watching him like hawks, they were better equipped and would do better with the massacre, and he was already injured, so it would be good if he could at least try to walk for himself instead of making Keegan hold his weight as well (which probably wasn’t that much, considering he’s been trying to starve himself for a year and hadn’t eaten in a whole three days).

And so they agreed, and then came the rest of the – maybe not great but neat – planning.

So, with bringing a nice and maybe slightly crazed statement in his state to Hesh, he sent more code out, pretending he hadn’t noticed the Feds yet.

“You ready to get out of this shithole, Hesh?” Many would think he had referred the forest as the shithole, but to the available team and now Hesh, it meant the Federation.

Hesh seemed to relax, but not so much so the Federation caught up with them. “Yeah, but I must warn you, it might be a bit tricky.”

Logan smirked, liking how the man was playing it.

“How s-” He went on a sudden coughing spree, which was half fake, half real. _“Five surrounding the clearing, just outside.”_ He almost laughed when Hesh raced up to him and gripped his shoulders seemingly to check if he was ok.

But he knew that he knew that it wasn’t just that.

_“Copy that. Good work, Logan.”_ Merrick said with approval, and Logan could almost see the man grimacing in pain from his hand.

“Smart.” Hesh whispered, before continuing on with the act. “Logan! You ok?” Logan doubled over, actually in pain from the coughing fit, which agitated his broken and bruised ribs.

_So much for putting up a tough act._ He thought, giving Hesh a half-frown, half-grimace. “I need to sit down.” He barely whispered the statement before promptly falling backwards, Hesh being the only thing that lead him to a soft landing.

“Logan!” Hesh yelled, getting into a crouch and was just about to check him over – where he was sitting on his behind, clutching his stomach in a pained manner – when three of the five Feds hiding in the undergrowth came out, grinning.

“Well, well, well. Looks like we hit two birds with one stone, or more two Walker’s with one capture. It seems it’s our lucky day.” Two of the three men walked over to Hesh, one carrying a Honey Badger with the other carrying an SA-805, and grabbed him by the shoulders, chucking him away from him. 

_Huh?_ His mind comprehending the statement as the leader stepped closer to him, a dark skinned man with a mix of dark green and dark brown in his eyes. _Two Walkers? Does that mean…. No….no, it can’t be true…._

The leader suddenly launched his foot out, to which it hit him dead in the face, making him fall backwards, which wasn’t too painful considering he had been sitting down.

But the hit to the face really did hurt. No, he didn’t cry out; a whole year of torture can harden and change a man up to terrifyingly high levels, so the hit was nothing. But yes, he did admit that it hurt, where his boot had got him across his right eye and cheek.

So yeah, he could also feel a cracked tooth and taste blood – not that he hadn’t been tasting the metallic taste before.

The leader of the group of five was sudden standing over him, where he was holding a Pistol, as to what type he couldn’t tell, with the sudden blurriness of his vision foretelling the start of a really, _really_ bad headache.

The black man raised his foot and pressed it into his chest firmly, to which he grimaced, feeling the swollen and definitely fractured bone beneath it divert from its original spot. “Where are the other Ghost’s?” He asked, to which Logan spat out blood. “Where are your friends?”

Logan felt a sudden desire to protect the people he’d teamed up with, way too strong to ignore.

He also felt the sudden desire to play with cheek, something he hadn’t used in a long, long time.

“They’re at your doorstep to hell.” With that response, the man inched his foot over his neck, to which he pressed down.

Logan grabbed the man’s foot with his hands instinctively, the sudden panic that he couldn’t breathe almost maddening him.

The man leaned down, closing in on him until his mouth was next to his ear. “I asked you a question, kid. You should think about your answer before you speak, or I’ll send you to hell myself.” The man took the pressure off his neck and back onto his chest, to which he sucked in great and greedy gasps of air.

Logan gave the man a glare, feeling the pain from his neck to where the leader pressed down on it.

“Been there, done that.” This time the pistol hit him in the side of his head, making him spit out more blood.

He vaguely noticed Hesh yelling offensive rubbish in the background, but he didn’t bother listening in.

_That’s my boy._ He didn’t bother questioning the statement that came to him, only feeling a pound rack his brain as the pistol hit him again, feeling blood start to dribble down his temple.

Logan felt clod metal press against his head, knowing it was the barrel of the pistol, the pistol he now identified as a P226. “Answer me, boy, or I _will_ kill you.”

This time, Logan thought long and hard about the answer, wondering if he really did want to die. _Well, not that I need to think about it,_ he thought. _The team will be on the killing spree shortly._ Just as he thought that, Merrick’s voice flowed into his brain.

_“We’re going in.”_

When that was said, Logan looked up at the man, knowing in just a few seconds, he would be a dead one. “Well, they’re here and there. But today, right at this moment, they’re about to send you to hell.” The sound of silenced gunshots echoed through the clearing, to where the man fell to the right of him, a gaping hole in his chest. “Like I said,” he slowly got up, grabbing the P226 from the man’s weak grasp, the leader gasping for breath. “They were at your doorway to hell.” He shot the man in between the eyes, not caring that the weapon wasn’t silenced or that more Feds could be here any second.

He stared at the dead man for a whole minute, wondering things that he didn’t understand – things that he didn’t quite know why he was thinking.

_I wonder if he had a family. Did he have a wife and child? Maybe two? Well, I just took away someone they loved. I just took away someone that was fighting for what he believed in. I killed him._ Logan reached for the man’s bloodied neck, ripping off the necklace that was sure to be his dog-tag. Took his hand away from the corpse before looking at the name of the now deceased man, the dog-tag covered in blood.

_‘Mitchel Kimberly. 19/6/1996.’_ The tag read, to where Logan grimaced. _He was only 31. Oh, god…_

He felt a hand on his shoulder, which brought himself out of his guilt-ridden state. _What…why…what was that? That type of emotion…. I haven’t had that in years – I’m sure of it._

“Hey, Logan. You ok? You had it pretty rough there.” Keegan had put the hand on his shoulder, to where he didn’t respond, unable to rid of the guilt that had taken hold of his body. He felt shuffling behind him, and was soon face-to-face with a crouching Keegan, who was wearing his mask. “You alright? You seem….” Keegan’s face slackened and drew to one of realisation. The man sighed. “Logan, he was going to kill you. There’s no need to feel guilty.”

_Medic. Good at reading emotions._ He noted. _Good at reasoning and planning. Good at coming up to people at the right moments. Good at…. Good at…._ Logan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaled. _Tell. Don’t tell. Tell. Don’t tell…._

_Tell._

Logan shook his head. “Something’s not right here. My emotions are so fucked up.” Keegan gave him a grim and sad smile, trying to tell him in his own way that he _knows_. That he _understands_ what he’s going through.

But how could anyone know what was going on with him if he didn’t know himself? If he didn’t know _who_ he was…. _what_ he was…. if he had family…. who he loved…. who he hated….

Everything was such a blur. His past, the present…. At least he had the future to depend on. But the future, he was sure, held many obstacles he would have to climb over before he got to the last hurdle.

And one of them would be regaining his memories, the many he hadn’t already uncovered, and figure out which side he was on.

But that would have to be fast, for his instincts were telling him to stay, while his mind was telling him to stay. He trusted both. God, he used both of them in the midst of battle – relied on them to get him through the day and night; to get him home…. Wherever home was. 

Right now, they were arguing in a heated battle, one clashing with ice, the other with fire. As to who would win, he didn’t know.

All he really did as go with the flow, and if the flow didn’t flow with him, he rebelled against it.

And if that meant running from these men, who somehow trusted him with their lives, he would.

It was a free country, however many wars, big or small, were being tested and played. Whatever many countries were involved in each one.

Whatever the case, he would run if need be, if both arguing sides agreed – if one side was stronger than the other, he would go with it. It was a fork in the road, and he would walk along the one that he thought was the right path, wherever it may take him.

He suddenly realised the gun was gone from his grasp, and finally looked up at Keegan, spotting the very weapon in his hand in a non-threatening manner.

It made him relax; it made his make up his mind. _I’ll go with them for the time being. If things get too unbearable, I’ll leave. It’s as simple as that._

He almost snorted. _Who knew a simple gesture could mean the decision of something so important that it’s crazy?_

Keegan suddenly stood, looking past him and at what he presumed to be the other three Ghost’s, giving a short nod. The Ghost looked down at him, sending out a hand. “Come on, we need to get out of here before more of them get here.” Logan took the hand without hesitation, feeling the terrible pain it brought his ribs as the man pulled him up.

Keegan had already positioned himself for someone Logan could lean on, to which he raised an eyebrow. Keegan caught it, making a smirk besides the circumstances. “Let’s face it, you couldn’t hold yourself for a whole minute, and even before that you had a lot of trouble just standing upright.”

Logan couldn’t argue with that, giving him a smirk before gladly accepting the gesture, his knees wobbling. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He admitted, before adding: “but for your information, I stood for two minutes, not one.”

Keegan responded with a short laugh and curt nod before they made their way over to the other Ghost’s, who were waiting with their weapons (all assault rifles) ready and waiting for any enemies to cut across their line of vision.

“We good to go?” Merrick asked, giving Logan a quick once over. They all nodded, but not before he checked out the slightly worried faces of Hesh and Kick.

_Hesh…._

He thought back to what the dead man had said to him and the Ghost, wondering if, just if, the man was telling the truth.

_If he’s my brother, then that would explain what he was doing at dad’s death._ At that thought, he felt a burst of anger explode from him, maintaining control of it in less than a second. _It would also explain the uneasiness and nervousness he’s been giving me, as well as the protective urges from me. But… I just can’t think about it right now. I’m sure it’s just a mind game that that guy wanted to play with us._

The thought of the dead man gave Logan a kick of guilt, to which he still didn’t quite understand. _Whatever. I’m sure it’ll go away soon._ That being thought of, he realised he still had the man’s dog-tag in his hand.

He didn’t have time to think about it, for Merrick brought him out of his thought’s once again. “Ok Ghost’s, let’s get out of here.”

With that, the five of them walked into the trees, but not before Logan dropped the dog-tag onto the dirt floor.

And not before he realised it was the memory of the name of his first kill that brought the grief. His first kill being a Fed by the name of a 24-year old Kaden Kimberly, born on the 19/6/1996.


	8. Chapter 8

**_ Chapter 8: _ **

If Logan put it nicely, he would say the people with him were a bunch of annoying and fretting scumbags.

But he wasn’t saying it nicely. In fact, he wasn’t saying anything at all. He was just grumbling in his own thoughts about how these _motherfucking_ _dickheads_ had managed to _cuff_ _him_ to _Hesh_.

Yes, they had somehow managed to _sneak_ _up_ on him in his _sleep_ and _handcuff_ _him_ to the man he was trying so damn hard not to think about it was giving him a migraine. It was a bad experience for him.

Anyway, they had reached the riverbank just yesterday night, and they had decided to make camp there. During that time, he had done lots of cursing at Keegan as he prodded his wounds and tried to help him find a way past the pain, sulked when he realised earlier that morning he had been cuffed, and hadn’t talked to anyone since he had had a ‘nice and lengthy chat with Merrick about the attachment’. He would have laughed at Hesh about his expression as he was dragged around in his anger, but let’s just say he was in a bit of a rage.

Merrick, the bastard, told him it was just so they could make sure he didn’t leave or anything like that, which he was considering with very high hopes that he could somehow break the cuff and do just that. But it would be a little hard, considering Hesh was a Ghost, being the best of the best and all.

Did he mention how they were motherfucking dickheads? The whole lot of them?

“Hey. Don’t be so grumpy, Logan. I’m sure it’ll only be temporary.” Hesh nudged him from where he was sitting on a log, to the right of him.

Logan looked up at Hesh in a bored and angry expression, giving him a glare. _Temporary my ass._

Hesh shook his head, a smirk on his face. “Don’t give me that look. You know they’re just trying to play it safe.”

Logan gave him another glare. _What a load of bullshit! They just what to make sure I don’t get away – the bastards. The trust factor is still there, but they can’t help but be paranoid about it. Well, it’s not like I_ wasn’t _going to_ try _to get away – but still!_

Hesh snorted, shaking his head but not saying another word.

 _Smart,_ he thought. _He knows when to butt out. That’s good._ Logan leaned forward on the log, his un-cuffed left hand holding his aching ribs. _Hesh. I still feel like there’s something more behind the story than just the name. I know that I know him from somewhere, but the question is, how and where did I meet him, and is there a chance that that man was telling the truth?_ His free hand rose up to his head, leaving his ribs. _This is giving me a headache, maybe I should just ask the man sitting next to me._ He immediately banished the thought, feeling disgusted with himself. _No, that’d be like letting the lies feed the hungry wolves in my mind. No, I’ll figure this out myself, without any help from anybody, especially to the guy I’m trying to figure out._

Logan sat there for a moment, simply thinking about nothing as he watched the other Ghost’s sharpening their weapons, packing for the journey ahead of them, or just doing what they were doing: nothing.

That was the moment he sighed.

Hesh wasn’t the only thing on his mind – the only thing that was bothering him. No, he had a few other disturbing and slightly unnerving things that were nagging him, poking him and poking him until he acknowledged their presence, whether it be in anger or a calmness he couldn’t explain.

Like when the moment he really did fall asleep for the first time since the escape, he’d seen flashes of events and…. things that he didn’t understand – that he couldn’t even begin to think as to what he was doing and why he was there.

Things that really scared him.

For example, he’s seen a German Shepard ripping out the throat of a Fed. He’d seen a forest, himself armed with only a silenced gun, a knife, and a heartbeat monitor. He’d seen a broken and cracked house with the same condition for the pool, with a shadow of a person in front of him, the person behind him. And, the most disturbing of all, he saw himself in the pit, one of the first forgotten days, staring up at the sky from where he stood, anger and sadness clear in his eyes.

The first days. The _forgotten_ first days. Those days were the hardest in his life, that he was certain. But he couldn’t remember them, and he swore something important and memorable had happened in that month, but it was just…...blank. A blank spot where memory should had been, but was covered in a silk blanket and surrounded with walls, too high to climb and very hard to break through; like the pit.

Those days were the most guarded in all his memory, equal to whose side he was really on.

And really, they were the most frustrating of all. Just those two answers could give him valuable information and work out where to go – what his goal was.

Because he was aimless. He didn’t have a mission, and when people didn’t have goals to get across, they didn’t have motivation. When people didn’t have motivation to keep going, they had weak spots in what they believed in and holes where their past mission’s goal had perished, having achieved or abandoned that goal. And when they had holes in their mind; doubt about what the right and wrong thing was, that was when the other side could get into their heads, tell them lies and promises they couldn’t keep. And when that happened, those people without goals would turn and work for the other side, becoming spies for the very side they had worked with. And when that happened, they would gain a goal and have purpose one again.

And purpose was something he didn’t have right at this moment, or the next.

And it was very dangerous, something he had to fix before both sides of the war collided and made him choose without the proper thinking he truly needed.

Really, he could only hope that was a long time from now, because he knew he wasn’t ready – probably wouldn’t be for a long time to come.

Logan felt a hand on his shoulder, and suddenly he was back in the pit, the crazed interrogator placing a hand on his shoulder, whispering words close to his ear before he stabbed him with the knife.

And in that moment, he reacted.

Logan grabbed the hand with his un-cuffed one and twisted, standing while he pushed the suddenly unfamiliar and dangerous predator away, the man falling over the log and slamming into the ground with Logan following in tow, un-cuffed hand at his throat in an instant.

He could see the dangerous man’s lips moving, trying to form words, even saying a few, but none reached his ears.

For he was terrified, might he admit it, and he couldn’t let go – couldn’t stop himself from strangling the now dangerous man he didn’t quite know. It was like his mind had put itself into lockdown, faces becoming blurred and unfamiliar and terror just making everything seem like they were about to hurt him – kill him. 

It was like all his horrors and nightmares had come to life, and the memory of the pit and the interrogation room and _Sam_ and Rorke and….

Something hard slammed into the side of his head, making him release his grip and fall to the side, his cuffed hand stuck to the man he had just been murdering and actually lost his bearings for a while.

He didn’t know how long he stayed in that darkness. He didn’t know who hit him. He did realise what he had done was a mistake, and he did realise that all his emotions were out of order; jumbled up and thrown around like rag dolls, terrified about things that he couldn’t quite place – the only one being his terror for the pit and what happened there. What he did feel while he was in this tormenting darkness was anger, for the pit and whoever had hit him, grateful, for whoever had hit him – however ridiculous it sounded – and, for some odd reason, despair.

Maybe the despair was from the loneliness and fear at what they would do from his actions. Maybe the despair was the sudden feeling that he wouldn’t know which side to choose until he had to choose – had to choose a side in the war.

Whatever the case, he knew it didn’t matter – at least, not at the moment. He knew he couldn’t think forward, only about the present. He would cross those bridges when he got to them – if they didn’t break before he got to the other side, of course.

And, with a low groan, Logan woke and wasn’t surprized to find three sets of cuffs on him – one holding his hands together, the other two securing him to a tiny metal dome each by his side that reminded him of the camping tools to hold the tents down. He was leaning up against a tree, quickly finding the day that had been morning having turned to night. He quickly spotted the campfire blazing from a fresh restock of the fuel it needed, as well as one sleeping Ghost who he identified as Kick. He spotted Keegan and Merrick staring at the fire while sitting against trees close to the other soon afterwards, both of them chatting low enough so the crackling of the fire masked their conversation.

But the man he had hurt was nowhere to be seen.

 _Where the fuck is Hesh? If I’ve done some real damage god help me-_ His thoughts cut off as soon as he saw the man entering the clearing with a stack of sticks and one big bit of wood, dumping them next to Keegan and Merrick, who had stopped their conversation to look up to see who had entered.

Logan noticed how they clutched their weapons by their sides a little tighter when they heard an unidentified figure enter and relax when they realised it was just Hesh.

 _Just like me._ He realised after a moment, knowing why the action seemed so familiar. _I did it a lot in that month where the Federation were training me, not that I noticed I was the only one back then._ He didn’t bother continuing, actually losing his trail of thought a moment after as he made eye contact with Hesh, actually spotting the fresh bruises he had inflicted on his neck. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him, wincing slightly, knowing it didn’t get past Hesh’s ‘all-seeing’ eyes.  _Ah, shit. I’ve done some damage. He even seems to wince whenever he turns his head. Great job, me. You’ve just injured one of the only people that have the answers you’re looking for, but won’t ask. Oh, good job with that, by the way. It doesn’t seem that you’ve gotten anywhere with that question. You plan on figuring it out or asking?_

He scowled at his thoughts, before realising Keegan and Merrick had stood up as well, the three Ghost’s actually walking over.

And before he knew it, he had started to look at the ground, suddenly unable to look into their eyes – unable to stare into their gazes and tell them he had hurt one of their own.

In that moment, he realised he shouldn’t care. He realised he shouldn’t even be feeling guilty. He realised that whenever he hurt a Fed in training, he wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t even feel guilty. In fact, he would want to do it all again. Perhaps it was the anger from the pit that had done that, but then wouldn’t it have crossed over into the ‘now’ space of time, only a couple days after doing just that? And what about the choice to stay with them, while with the Federation, he only wanted to leave and sort out his thoughts and regain his memories.

 _So,_ he wondered, _what is the big deal about these four men? Sure, I’m still considering whether to leave or not, but why? Just why did I choose to stick with them in the first place? The only thing they did was not raise a weapon threateningly towards me. Like, how the_ fuck _does that decide whether to stay or not? Exactly; it doesn’t! It was an excuse to stay with them – an excuse to go with them, to give into my sudden desire and need to go with them. But…. why did I feel the need to go with them? Why did I need these people – complete strangers – to stay by me? I don’t know, but what I’m certain of is that if I don’t leave soon, I’m going to be trapped in the spider web that they’re weaving and become one of the bugs that they can squish without a problem._

Logan thought about his thoughts as he waited for the Ghost’s to speak, the three men just staring at him, one in anger, the other in worry, and the other in a sadness, whatever that’s for. _I know that that was the part of my mind that is urging me to leave, so what about the pros of this? Sure, I’m sure being handcuffed to a guy you are trying to avoid is terrible and sucks like shit, but was it really that bad? Yes, I did get stuck in a memory and lashed out at Hesh. Yes, I do have a killer headache and am not thinking straight. But…...does it really matter? I feel like these guys are who I’m supposed to stick with – who’ll help me unlock my memories faster than anything I could ever do alone. But what if I’m wrong? What if this instinct it wrong and I’m on the wrong side? I know the memory of Rorke killing my farther is a good enough example that I am on the right side, but what if I was a spy? What if I was trying to play a really good act and disappear once ‘Rorke captured me’? But if that’s true, then why the pit? Why would I have been put down there if Rorke knew I was a ‘spy’?_ Logan sighed in defeat, forgetting the other Ghosts were there. _Urrgh! None of this is adding up! If only I had my memories. Then I would be able to sort out at least some of these things…._

“Err…. Logan, are you alright? We’ve been standing here listing to you mumble for the past five minutes, something about ‘what if’ and other stuff.” Logan froze, hearing Merrick talk to him in a tone that meant no danger, yet had a ‘you’re in trouble’ tone. He also didn’t fail to hear the slight worry, which kind of unnerved him.

_Ah, shit. There we go again with the mumbling._

He didn’t respond, allowing Keegan’s blazing eyes to turn their blaze into a dangerous and angry expression, making him start to tense. “Why did you try to kill Hesh? You nearly succeeded, too! We want answers, Logan!” He didn’t quite understand why the man that had been nice and understanding to him in his fragile state was in a fit of anger, finding the only explanation to be the fact that he had hurt his teammate.

_I guess he doesn’t take sudden attacks to his mates lightly._

Again, he didn’t allow himself to respond, just giving them all a blank expression, wanting them all to speak first.

Meaning he wanted Hesh to speak.

He turned his gaze to the man ( _brother? Teammate? Enemy?_ ) and gave him an expectant look. Hesh seemed to understand and stared at him for another ten seconds, making him jittery.

 _Come on, a man doesn’t take this long before speaking!_ He almost laughed at his stupidity. _Oh, wait, I haven’t spoken in a day. Woops. I’m amazing at being a hypocrite!_

“Logan....I don’t really have anything to say. You were terrified of something – that much I know – but of what? Man, you’re going to have to trust us with your past, ok? You just......You just have to share your worries and dilemmas with the rest of us,” Hesh crouched next to him, a sad smile on his face. “Talk if you want, don’t talk if you don’t want to. It’s all up to you; we can’t force you to do anything. But know this: we’re here to help you. We’ll always be here and will never turn our backs on you.” With that, Hesh stood and, with one last glance at the man that at tried to kill him, walked back to the fire and sat against a tree.

Logan blinked, not expecting that at all. _What the- did he just forgive me? I know he just said I was terrified, but that doesn’t make him able to forgive me. That last bit.... God, that last bit has made up my mind about a few things, thank god._ He shook his head with a smirk on his face, watching as Hesh picked up a pistol and weighed it in his hands, ignoring the other two Ghost’s in front of him. _And what was that bullshit about trust and sharing? Heh, dilemmas are my whole life right now, so if I told him my whole life was a big fat dilemma, what would he say? Should I even care, or am I just trying to make myself laugh?_ He shook his head. _Forget that last bit – I need to ‘talk’ to the other two Ghost’s._

With that thought in mind, he turned his gaze on them, where they looked a little worried.

Logan frowned. _Why should they be worried? I’ve done nothing wrong or crazy since I started strangling Hesh._ It was funny, saying that like it was the most casual thing in the world, but he ignored that fact and gave the Ghost’s another expectant look. _Don’t want to talk, so deal with the looks._

The two Ghost’s glanced at each other, suddenly seeming unsure as to what they wanted to say. Logan just stared at them, bored to the max. _Hurry up! I don’t have all day- I mean, night! Jesus, my mind is not in a great state right now, with the irony of a few of them._

Finally, after what seemed like days but were really just a few seconds, Merrick spoke. “Hesh is right. You can share our troubles with us, and we can help you with that. We won’t force you to do that, though. Do what you like, just as long as you stay with us; leaving is the only thing we won’t allow you to do.” With that said, Merrick walked off, heading towards the fire, presumably to sleep.

_Huh. Looks like Hesh has said a few words and caused a trend. I guess that’s good, but I wonder what Keegan’s going to say._

Keegan stared at him, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. The Ghost went to speak, but must have decided against it, for the next moment he was gone, telling Hesh it was his shift now and to wake him up at 0300.

Logan blinked, feeling like he had dodged a bullet. _Or don’t say anything at all. You seemed very angry, too, so thanks for that._ He turned his gaze and attention to Hesh with conflicted thoughts in tow. _I want to talk to you, but I don’t want to give in to the wolves. Can I trust you, Hesh? Can I trust you with my life? You may have been at my dad’s murder, but that doesn’t make you family or my teammate. But that’s beside the point. Do I ask, or do I let this opportunity slide?_

Before he knew it, he had used the cuff to pull out one of the metal dome-like objects and had slid his cuff around it until he was in open air, free of that custody. He used his two hands, now able to move his, yet were still cuffed, hands and did the same for the second. Logan suddenly noticed that besides the headache, he couldn’t feel any of the pain that would have kept him rooted to the spot. _Painkillers? They brought some of that and didn’t tell me? Damn these men are complete bastards._

Logan glanced at the cuffs, still finding the one holding both his hands together the worst, and finding the other two cuffs hanging off each arm, feeling foreign on each one. _Well, that can’t be helped. I doubt Hesh would take them off, so I should just get used to the feeling._

Logan slowly rose to his feet, using the tree to help him as he felt a dull pain spike in his ribs. _Huh. Guess I’ve done so much damage to my ribs that the pain is still there. Fuck that bastard that decided to hurt me! I’m glad I put a bullet in his skull; it felt good too, after he did that._ He shook his head, trying to rid the dark thoughts. _No, if you want to talk to Hesh you’re going to have to be in the right state of mind._ As he stumbled closer to him, Logan felt like an invisible weight was lying on his shoulders, getting heavier and heavier as he neared the man that may or may not be his brother. _Urrgh. It’s like my mind is making this harder for me in the anticipation. Again, do I really want to ask him this? He could lie about it, for all I know._

He took another step closer, moving towards the edge of the clearing so not to wake any of the other Ghost’s. _If he gives me a straight answer, I’ll at least be able to lock it up when I get access to a computer......that is, if I can even get to one._

Logan was three quarters of the way now, nearing the man’s location faster than he would have liked.

 _Do I want to do this?_ He let the thought cross his mind once more, to which his inner thoughts finally reached a conclusion for an answer. _Yes, yes you do. You want to see if the man is honest or a liar – you are good at detecting those now, with the Feds telling shit like it’s pouring out of their mouths. So go, ask him – and be sure not to give him a fright. You don’t want a bullet in your stomach, do you?_ Logan smirked at that last thought, before reaching the man, dropping to the floor and leaning against the tree he was leaning on in less than a second.

To say he gave him a fright was an understatement.

Hesh literally jumped back and away from him, eyes wide and pistol pointing at his centre mass. Logan put his hands up, the grin on his face glowing in the firelight. “Hey, I just thought I’d drop by, maybe have a little talk. Didn’t think I’d scare you that much, considering you’re a Ghost, after all.” Hesh scowled, looking slightly embarrassed as he lowered his gun, taking his seat back against the tree, now beside him.

They sat in silence for more than a few minutes, Logan somehow enjoying the Ghost’s company. _I don’t understand all of these mixed feelings. At one time I’ll be scared out of my fucked up mind, then I’ll be angry, then I’ll be guilty......and now......now I feel comfortable and relaxed after such a_ long _time._ Logan frowned. _I may not understand most of this now, but in a few months I might actually remember most of this – know who I am, and hopefully have no doubt about which side I’m on. God, I can’t wait for that day...._

“Your mumbling again.” Hesh suddenly said, saying it as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Logan swallowed, feeling himself tense. _Ah, shit._ “Thanks.” He wasn’t really sure what to say – he just said the first thing that came to his mind.

“What for?” Hesh asked, still staring at the fire, clutching the pistol in his hand tightly.

_How did he.... It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that he realised I wasn’t talking about the statement. What also matters is what I say. Do I tell the truth, or just bullshit on?_

He figured that out in less than a second.

“For telling me. I don’t really want to become crazy, do I?” It was a half-lie, half-truth statement, one that he hoped Hesh would bypass as truth.

Hesh glanced at him, frowning. “That wasn’t what you meant, was it? Come on, Logan. You already know I-” The Ghost cut himself off, wincing. “Err....Well, you should know that I can pick up lies and half-truths, just like that one there. You can tell me anything, you know that from what I said before.”

Logan himself frowned, confused about the sudden change in saying. _What was that? He just......stopped. It’s like he was going to say something that went along with knowing me......_

“Well, Hesh, I guess you got me right, but I’m not a complete fool either.” He saw said man look at the ground, whether in shame or guilt he didn’t know. “But I can ask that later, for it just might play part in my question. To what that was before, I was saying thank you for helping me out back there. Keegan seemed shitty about what I did – sorry about that, by the way. I don’t know what happened....” He made multiple facial expressions in those few sentences, ranging from guilt to gratitude.

And he knew what happened, he just didn’t want to say through pride and secrecy...... and some trust issues.

And Hesh didn’t seem to pick it up, and if he did, he didn’t say anything, as if he knew he didn’t want to talk about it. Just to that he was grateful to the Ghost.

“I know you’re not stupid, Logan. You’re a smart guy; just by the way your played that guy before and saved Kick and I back at the Fed compound proves as much.” Logan winced at the mention of the Fed base, recalling the moment when he went out of control. “And Logan......I know you’re sorry. I saw how you reacted just before when you saw the bruises. I just need you to know that it’s alright. I’m fine and I forgive you.” Hesh actually turned to look at him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Now, what’s this about a question?”

Logan gulped, suddenly feeling nervous and jittery, getting last minute doubt. _Do I really want to do this? Do I want to ask? Is it even right?_

Logan shook his head, suddenly remembering that Hesh was still staring intently at him. “Oh, what the hell,” he remarked, before telling what was on his mind. “I’m not sure if I want to ask you yet, to be honest. I’m not even sure if I should ask you. I could be in the wrong, or I could just be overthinking again.” He stopped there, not trusting himself to speak anymore.

Hesh’s grip tightened on his shoulders in a reassuring way. “Logan, you can trust me with anything. Ask away; I don’t bite.” The Ghost smirked at the last bit, to which it made Logan gain a small smile.

_Do I ask?_

The question nagged at his mind for over an hour as they sat there, Hesh having gone back to his original place long ago.

_Do I ask?_

This time, his mind gave him an answer.

**_Yes._ **

“Are you my brother?”


	9. Chapter 9

**_ Summary: _ **

Logan Walker, a man in chains under Rorke’s imprisonment, is slowly changing, becoming more hostile, losing precious memories, and only handle his own company. But something sticks, and using this knowledge he somehow manages to escape. Now on the run, Logan has to figure out if he’s with the Ghosts or the Federation, before it’s chosen for him.

/// //// //// //// ///

**_ Chapter 9: _ **

Hesh stared at Logan for a good minute, trying to compute what his brother had just asked him.

 _“Are you my brother?”_ God, he had already figured it out. He was way smarter than he looked. Yet, he didn’t seem certain about it.

He seemed to be on the fence about this:

Will he lie, or will he tell the truth?

Well, Hesh had been trying to figure out what he was going to say for a full minute, just staring at his brother.

And he knew that, whatever he said, his brother wouldn’t quite believe him. Either he would be relieved that he said no, or suspicious if he said yes.

Really, he wasn’t in the best position to give a yes or no answer.

So, he did the only thing he could do.

“Well.... It’s not like you would believe me either way. I can tell your unsure of what you believe in. I know that the only way you will know for sure is to find out yourself. Your impatient; I know that, but again, you wouldn’t believe me anyway.” His hand left Logan’s shoulder, the fire lighting up the right side of his face, showing the cut he and the psychopath had inflicted above his eye, bound to scar. “Logan.... I’m sorry I can’t give you a straight answer, but.... It’s not the right time.”

God, it hurt him so much to do this. He wanted Logan to know, but he knew it wasn’t the right time. He had to wait as much as his brother did, and it was creating a gaping hole where darkness was gathering, waiting to burst like a dam.

It hurt, but he was willing to do anything to keep his brother safe and by his side, even if he does get angry. Even if he is unstable. Even if he kills him.

He would do anything for him – it’s as simple as that.

He’s just an over-protective brother – no one can understand that as much as he does, with Logan being a P.O.W for a year, and Hesh searching everywhere for his last blood-line.

No one can ever understand the pain of watching your injured brother try to save your father, only to fail and have it kill their father; to have Rorke have a reason to want to grab him.

It’s just pain, pain and more pain.

Agony, if he wanted to put it that way; pure agony.

And now that he got him back, he would do whatever he could to keep him by his side.

Logan looked down and away from his prying eyes, as if trying to escape them. “it’s just.... I just feel like I need an answer now....” The confused man shook his head. “He’s right. I need to figure it out myself.... patience....” Hesh could see the faraway look in his eyes as he looked up, knowing his brother was deep in his thoughts.

 _Leave him be. There’s no harm in thinking over it._ And he did just that, tearing his gaze away from Logan and glanced around, remembering he was on guard duty.

 _Speaking of which, I’m probably not going to wake Keegan at 3._ He let his gaze rest on the fire, knowing he would have to restock it soon. _He does check-ups on everybody when they’re asleep, and if he does he’ll find the wound I’m currently hiding under my sleeve._ He looked down at his wrist, his other hand rubbing the wound that was still covered in dodgy bandages. _It hurts like a bitch, too. Hard to keep a straight face. And to make it worse, I’m starting to feel a sore throat – the first sign of a fever. God damn it! I can’t afford to be sick! The Feds are probably on our trail and I can’t slow us down, especially now we’ve got Logan traveling with us, forcefully or not._

At that moment, he felt something soft slowly lean on his shoulder, and he didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know it was Logan’s head, likely dozing off. He felt his heart flutter, having a sudden urge to cry and just hug his brother for as long as he could. _Oh, Logan.... You have no idea how much I’ve missed you over this past year......_

And, just like that, he let a tear roll down his face. No more, no less.

For Hesh Walker was back and better than ever, with his brother by his side.

/// //// //// //// ///

**_Logan Walker_ **

/// //// //// //// ///

**Time Passed: 7 hours**

Running from a very large squad of Federation goons is not how Logan wanted to start his day. No, he hadn’t run from the Ghost’s first; he didn’t have a good enough reason, despite having half of his conscious wanting to leave, his other half wanted to stay – which was enough to overrule the other half.

But, really, he was having a bit of trouble trying to grasp how this had happened. Sure, they had stopped for a while, but that was only because they knew they were pretty far ahead of the Feds, especially when they hardly had any tracks for them to follow.

So, how did they get found? Well, he’d have to go back to figure it out. And he meant back in time, to when he woke up to where he was now.

**~ Going Backwards: 1 Hour ~**

“Logan....” He heard a faraway voice pulling him away from the darkness for his dreamless sleep, unsure as to who it was that was trying to pull him away from this peacefulness. “Logan....” The voice was more urgent this time, louder too. But he still wasn’t responding, still trying to figure out if this was the start of a dream or not.

“LOGAN!” He sat bolt upright, sweating thin tendrils of the liquid that was currently rolling down his face.

 _What....Why...?_ He didn’t have any time to think about it, for he felt a hand shaking him, somewhat urgently. Logan turned his head sluggishly, still trying to rid the sleepiness from his consciousness.

He almost jumped, finding Hesh’s face right in front of his.

That was when he saw the men at the edge of the clearing, holding various assault rifles and firing the bullets into anything that moved – meaning them.

That was about the time he realised he couldn’t hear anything. He didn’t know why, but everything was ringing, as if a flashbang had gotten him good right after he woke up.

He realised right after he thought that that was the most accurate assumption he could have thought of – mainly because that is what _had_ happened.

Hesh was speaking to him, but even though he couldn’t hear him through his now aching eardrums, he vaguely realised he had grabbed out a key and was taking off the access handcuffs, to which he hadn’t noticed quite yet.

He also hadn’t noticed how Hesh must have dragged him to cover, for he was leaning against a different tree to which he had fallen asleep at, Hesh crouching in the cover of it as he proceeded in taking of his second cuff, having thrown the first to the side.

Logan looked around, finding Kick, Keegan and Merrick in similar positions, all three of them firing behind their own trees from picked up guns, consisting of an AK-12 on Merrick’s behalf, Bulldog for Kick, and Honey Badger for Keegan. A dozen Federation bodies lay face down on the floor, gunshot wounds being the end of them.

 _Why can’t I hear anything? Actually, why can’t I feel anything? The pain hasn’t come around yet._ The questions were put to a stop as he saw a Fed come up behind Hesh, who was just about to start on his last cuff, pistol and knife in hand.

Before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed the closest weapon off the floor – being Hesh’s knife – and literally dived over the Ghost, stabbing the man that was a metre from them in the neck.

That was when he felt the pain.

His recently dislocated shoulder started to produce a dull throb; his ribs gave off a cry from the movement; his other shoulder was giving him a bunch of curses from the bullet that had just torn through it, the knife wound from Rorke reopening by the luck that the bullet had managed to hit him in that exact place.

His ears started to ring somewhat louder, which was probably a good thing, considering he was giving the possibility that he could have gone deaf overnight a good think over.

He grunted, falling off of Hesh and dropping the knife as Hesh reached for his Honey Badger, firing it into two more tangos as they came up behind the first. Once they were down, he crouched next to Logan, seeing his pain.

His intercom buzzed to life, but all he could hear was the ringing in his ears and the very faraway voice, even if it was right in his ear. Hesh pulling him up against the tree again, looking at him worriedly, confirming he looked exactly as he had thought he looked like: shit.

“Any painkillers would be great,” he commented painfully, hoping he actually said those words instead of something else, because he _really_ wanted those painkillers.... not that he _needed_ them, of course.

Hesh winced, guilt etched on his face as he took down another tango, though it wasn’t directed at the enemy.

Again, it confirmed his worst fear: no painkillers were in their procession.... not that it was _terrible_ , or anything. He could still _walk_....

Hopefully.

His ramblings were interrupted by the pain spiking, making him grimace. _God, it’s like the buzzing is hurting me._ He thought for a precious moment, finding a smile in the midst of utter chaos. _Oh, wait, it is. It’s annoying, and sucks like the shit I’ve been forced into. Oh yeah, I’m talking about you, Hesh, and all of your ‘Ghostly’ friends. Rorke, you bastard, it’s your lucky day; I’ve got bigger fish to fry, like getting away from the men you sent after us.... me.... them?_

His pointless question was left unanswered as Hesh suddenly grabbed him and hauled him over his shoulder, Logan just able to grab the Ghost’s knife from off the floor before they making their quickly making their way to the other Ghost’s, who had all retreated a few trees back.

The pain was intense for the next few moments, and he could barely keep conscious as his ringing ears started to dull a tiny bit more, making Hesh’s faraway voice reach his ears. “-hit by a flashbang, probably right next to it, to make it worse.” There was a slight pause. “Do you think he’ll be deaf for much longer? We really need him to be able to run, even with all of his injuries.” The voice had gotten clearer as it went along, and he suddenly realised Hesh had been speaking at the start, and Merrick in the last couple sentences.

 _God, flashbangs are shit. They shouldn’t even take this long to lose their effect, so why the_ fuck _can’t I get my hearing back right away?_ It was a question that would have to wait, for they were under attack.

“I’m not sure, but if he can’t run, I’ll carry him.” A determined, still faraway voice told Merrick, and Logan chose that time to give out a response.

“That...” He gave a gasp as Hesh dropped him next to him behind the tree Kick was already occupying, the Ghost currently firing his Bulldog into the sea of Feds. “...won’t be necessary...” He grunted out, pain from his recent bullet wound making him wince.

Hesh snapped his head over to Logan, giving a slight smirk. “You can hear me?” He nodded in response, wincing as the burn on his neck made its protests known from the movement.

Hesh nodded in response to his nod, mumbling a “good” under his breath before he gave him a worried look. “Thanks for the save back there, but you can’t go about hurting yourself. You’ve already got enough pain on your platter.” Hesh scolded, before giving him a 44 Magnum, which he thought was rather odd, since he did have his hands cuffed and all. “You’re going to need this.” Seeing his confusion, he continued. “Logan, I can’t take that off now, so you’re going to have to work around it.”

 _Agreed._ He thought, pushing himself up against the tree and looking out, trying to spot a few tangos in his limited space of movement. _I can shoot with a pistol with both hands, too. So that’s fine by me._

He spotted a few of the bastards almost right away, poking their heads out from their covers to get a good look of where they were, only a yard of two away. _Idiots,_ he thought aggressively. _I can kill you all with a headshot each, with the Ghost’s being able to do the same!_ In proceedings to this thought, Logan shot two of the Feds in the head before the others caught sight of what he was doing, one of them narrowly missing a bullet as he ducked down. _Smart fellow. At least one of them is better than the rest. Not as good as me, though._ He thought with a smirk, before shooting the man in the head as he resurfaced from his cover.

Logan pulled himself away from the edge of the tree as he heard a pained grunt from Kick. He looked over, finding the Ghost taking cover as well, holding his left shoulder as if spewed out blood.

“You good?” He asked the Ghost, the ringing effect in his ears having gone down a considerable amount, with him finally able to hear the gunshots and shouts of Russian from the Feds.

Kick nodded, a flash of a recognition as he found him with the same wound before turning away from him and firing his Bulldog into the still assaulting Feds.

 _How many of them are them?_ He thought, annoyed. _We’ll be out of ammo soon if we continue like this._ He fired his pistol into a couple of incoming tangos, taking them down with fatal wounds. _We need to get out of this now, or we’ll be goners._

“Merrick,” He growled, throwing his knife into a Fed that was about to knife Keegan, the Ghost giving him a nod of thanks from his tree, which was a yard to the left of him him. “We need to get out of here stat, or we’ll be overrun.”

 _“Agreed.”_ His earpiece buzzed, a grunt sounding through the open line, and he turned to see him shove a Fed off of him. _“Ghost’s, we need to create a path to get through. Our destination is through them. We get through them; we get away.”_ Logan frowned.

 _Was he talking to all of us, or just them. I’m no Ghost._ He dropped the thought as he thought about the strategy, like, _really_ thought about it.

“No. That’s not an option.” Hesh gave him a confused glance from where he stood in front of him, before that came to realisation. “We’ll run out of bullets by the time we get through half of them.” He wasn’t one to take strategy, but he knew that wouldn’t work and he would just be back in the place he begun.

“Logan’s right.” Logan was surprized when Hesh was the one that spoke, watching him slug two Feds before going back to cover beside him. “That wouldn’t work. I say we run back and try to lose them, then double back and come back this way.”

 _Smart man._ Logan thought, smirking. _Thought exactly the same thing as me, and took it a step forward and made another plan._ He didn’t dwell on the suddenly praising thought, as Kick took it as time to speak.

“Hesh is right, with that one. But what are we going to do if we can’t lose them?”

 _Good question,_ he thought as he slugged a few tangos, trying to make sense of what they would do.

But he didn’t have to, as Keegan butted in and said his part. _“We could split up and make them split up, too. It’d give us a better chance of losing a few and killing the rest of them.”_

He nodded at that, taking cover as bullets lodged themselves into the wood, making him hiss at the loud noise, knowing the effects of the flashbang had long since faded. _That might just work. But what if one of us gets cornered.... or worse._

 _“That could just work. We can split up and work our way back here in twenty mikes. But it does heighten the risks of getting caught...”_ Merrick trailed off, before continuing as if he never stopped. _“Even so, we’re going to have to risk it. We also need someone to stick on Logan. He doesn’t look like he can even stand.”_

He frowned, glancing at the leader of the Ghost’s as he took down a few Feds, the man looking eyes with him as he took cover. “Right here, you know.”

He could have said more, but decided against it, knowing the rest of the Ghost’s heard the hidden meaning as well. _‘He could run. Someone needs to keep an eye on him.’_

What’s worse is that the suspicion was a fact. A terrible truth. He would run at any chance he got, even if he did feel protective and safe with these men.

So, kudos to Merrick for getting it right. He sure as hell meets the criteria for _‘Suspicious-and-annoying-bastard’_ perfectly. 

“Am I supposed to know the way around here?” He asked, tensing as bullets flew into the wood right beside his head.

There was a pause before a reply took place. _“Good question. Whoever’s with you can lead you here. If camp is still compromised by the time we make it here, head North to find the river. We’ll make our way down that and hopefully get the connection to call for extraction.”_ Merrick finished, before bullets flew into two Feds right beside Logan’s cover, killing them instantly. _“Ok, we ready to go?”_

“Hell yes.” He stated, with the rest of the Ghost’s giving similar remarks.

 _“Ok. Wait for my signal.”_ They all shot a few, with Hesh helping Logan painfully get up and placing two mags into his hands, to which he quickly shoved into his pocket, the handcuffs making the job a little harder than it should’ve been.

With his pistol in hand, Logan shot a few as they got closer, as if sensing they were about to escape. _“Go!”_

They immediately pelted into the undergrowth, Hesh’s hand gripping his arm firmly, as if trying to help him yet restrict him at the same time.

And it only made him annoyed. “Get off!” He yelled, shoving Hesh’s hand off of him (which did prove to be tricky, with the handcuffs and all) and sprinting through trees, knowing Hesh was right on his heels.

God, running was a pain. All he could think about was the ribs he was agitating, the pain in his shoulder, and just how many of the Feds were following them. _Think about that later. I just need to focus on how I’m going to get away from these bastards._

Him and Hesh continued to sprint deeper into the undergrowth, hearing the angry shouts of the Feds and the bullets that were buzzing around them.

That was when he heard another noise. A loud ‘BANG!’ that could only be from ejecting a grenade from a grenade launcher.

“Get down!” He yelled, before flinging himself into a rather thick bush, not baring any heed that it was a perfect place to hide when on the run.

Logan couldn’t say the same for the impact. The impact on the ground was bone jarring. It felt like he’d snapped one of his ribs, and he let out a sharp cry, which was drowned out by the grenade that blasted ten metres in front of him.

Dust kicked up around him, dirt splattering onto his clothes and face.

But he didn’t dare make any noise, even a moan, however much he wanted to.

Because the Feds were right outside his hiding spot.

Now, he didn’t know Russian, but he knew a little bit of Spanish. Just enough to catch snippets of conversation, but not enough to understand it all.

Too bad they were speaking Russian.

_Maybe next time, Logan, your luck might be a little better._

He could only watch as they walked around the area, one a foot from his hiding place. Logan gripped the gun tighter, barely breathing as the tension thickened, tensing as the man took a tiny step towards him, as if trying to see if anyone was in there...

One of the men called out to him, and the Fed stepped back and jogged towards the other, the group of nine running in the direction they thought they had gone.

Only when Logan was sure they were gone, he let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, wincing as it agitated his already hurting ribs.

He knew it would do good if he got up, but he couldn’t move without agony racing through his bones. So he settled with laying on his stomach and face and thinking.

 _Did Hesh make it out? I didn’t see them dragging anyone along. How about the others? Did they get away? Well,_ he snarled, _why don’t you find out yourself? You can get up! All you need is determination!_

Logan, now filled with newfound determination, pushed upward, choking as his breath caught in his throat, the pain having made it hitch. He coughed, collapsing back onto the floor.

 _“Logan!”_ A voice yelled from his earpiece, somehow blurring from hearing it from somewhere around him or from the earpiece. _“Logan, you here?”_

 _Hesh._ The voice came back to him, and as he went to call out, had a sudden thought. _I could let him think I got taken and run. I could finally be free for a while and have time to think about what I want to do. Or, I could call out and get help and get away from the Feds, but stick with the Ghost’s._

“Logan! Logan, where are you?” Hesh seemed desperate now, and he seemed a lot closer, enough for him to be able to hear him clearly without the earpiece to help him.

Suddenly, he felt disgusted with himself. _No, even if they’ve been annoying and all, I need to put some trust in someone. If anyone, it’s Hesh. There’s just something about him...._ He let the thought trail off before another one hit him. _They could be lying...._

Logan smirked. _So be it. If they’re lying, then at least I’ll know what side I’m on, not be in the dark anymore._

He went to call out, but he suddenly realised he couldn’t.

That was about the time he realised he couldn’t breathe.

Through desperation, Logan put his cuffed hands out from under the bush, hoping Hesh was close enough to help him.

Because if he wasn’t, he was a dead man.

“Logan, where are-” Hesh cut himself off, and Logan saw his feet at the edge of the tiny space, the ground having picked up from where it was on the ground by the grenade. “Logan!”

Hesh raced towards him while he took in tiny breaths, unable to get enough of the much needed oxygen into his lungs. The Ghost let his knees give way as he ran towards him, skidding across the ground until he was right next to him, grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the dense bush, carefully flipping him over.

When he saw him alive, he gave out a sigh of relief. But it must have been short lived, as Hesh must have seen him struggling to breathe. The Ghost started looking around for the reason this was, and, seeing Hesh struggle, grabbed his arm with his cuffed hands, guiding it to his ribs.

Hesh felt around there, and Logan let out a moan consisting of the word “Ah!” as he poked the painful area.

He almost screeched as Hesh dug his hand into the area between his lungs and ribs. _God, why the fuck-_ A sudden relief so huge that he let out a gasp washed over him, and he took in deep and greedy gups of air, relishing the feeling.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned his head, Hesh looking him over with worry. “You right? I was a bit worried, there.”

Logan smirked, shaking his head. “A warning would’ve been nice.” He ended up saying casually, Hesh letting out a laugh, clapping him on the back before slowly helping him to his feet, not wanting him to be unable to breathe again.

Logan had a look around at their surroundings, before looking back to Hesh, who was doing the same.

“What’d you do after i told you to get down?” He asked, hunching over and placing a hand protectively around his stomach, the other gripping the 44 Magnum like it was his only weapon, which it was.

Hesh watched him do this, obviously realising he was in pain just standing there, as he grabbed his wrists and pulled out a key, quickly taking away the cuffs that limited his movements. “I got down just like you said, but just happened to jump the other way. I thought you were right behind me.”

Instead of answering, he stared at the cuffs, frowning. “Why?”

Surprisingly, Hesh seemed to understand. “I didn’t have time before, so while we were alone, I thought it was the least I could do. Plus, it’s pretty hard to shoot someone that’s behind you with cuffs.” He didn’t need to say anymore on the topic, for he understood.

 _He trusts me._ It was all he needed to feel a warm feeling spread through him – one he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Happiness.

Somehow, this man’s trust was enough to feel happy.

And it only made him confused.

His head suddenly felt like it was splitting, and he grunted, the hand on his stomach flying up to his head and his other one dropping the pistol and did the same, clutching his head tightly.

“Logan...” The voice was faraway now, and he suddenly found himself in the dark.

He took a step forward from where he stood, and he felt no pain.

 _Am I....dead?_ The thought came naturally, and suddenly, the whole world came back at him, but at a different time.

He saw three images: A German Shepard, A man he knew to be his father, and the bastard that tortured him.

_Rorke._

He took a threatening step forward, wanting to beat the man to a plump, before the image vanished, replaced by one word:

_Checkmate._

He remembered thinking it back when Hesh and Kick had been under the Feds mercy and he went back to help them.

 _Checkmate....what does it mean...._ He wondered, and suddenly, a voice filled his thoughts.

_“When I say Checkmate, you will blow up this train!”_

He gasped, stumbling backwards. The voice was static, but he wasn’t sure if it was who he thought it was.

_Hesh....was that you?_

He didn’t have time to dwell on it, for he snapped back awake, his head pounding. He was aware that he was moving fast, his eyes focusing and un-focusing on a pair of feet, racing away from an unknown enemy.

 _What the...._ He looked up, only to find a huge squad of Feds running after them in the undergrowth. His eyes widened, and he looked to the side of him, finding Hesh carrying him over his shoulder, and the other Ghost’s running ahead of them, shooting back at the Feds.

“What the fuck?” He stated, wondering how long he’d been out. When no one answered, he put a hand onto his earpiece, only now realising how much it hurt his ribs with Hesh holding him like this.

“What the fuck is going on?” He growled, pain lacing into his voice as Hesh jumped over a tree root.

 _“Logan? You’re awake?”_ Kick asked, panting like he’d run a marathon.

“Yeah. I just wanted to ask-” He let out a cry as Hesh stumbled, his ribs letting out agonising cries. “-How long I’ve been out, and where the hell we are.”

There was a pause as someone on the line grunted, and Logan paid no heed, for he was watching the Feds fall like flies.

It was very entertaining, in his opinion.

“ _Hesh carried you here, said you had fainted right in front of him. So I’m not too sure; maybe half-an-hour? As to where we are, we’re close to the river.”_ Merrick replied, taking a deep breath. _“You think you’ll be able to run by yourself? Hesh is falling behind.”_

And indeed he was. Logan could hear his tired breaths, and knew he had to get off of him now, not just for him, but for Hesh, too.

The running was agitating his ribs, after all.

“Yeah.” He grunted. “You think you could put me down now, Hesh? Your kind of hurting me.”

 _“We’ll cover you, Hesh.”_ Merrick told him, and in reply, Hesh raced to the nearest tree, slowly putting him down before grabbing his Honey Badger, peaking out and firing a few rounds into the sea of Feds, taking down one with each round.

Logan rose to his feet quickly, despite the pain, and tapped the Ghost on the shoulder, telling him he was ready to go without speaking. With that being ‘said’, he and Hesh started running towards the other Ghosts. When they reached them, the three Ghost’s got off their posts and ran with them.

Logan had no idea what direction they needed to take, so he settled with following them and trying to dodge the Fed’s bullets.

_He frowned, thinking as they ran. The Feds found us, but how? I mean, we slept for a bit, but... just how?_

That was what he was doing now, trying to figure it out.

 _We walked. We covered our tracks. We made set up camp. We created a campfire..._ His eyes widened in realisation. _That’s it!_ _The campfire!_

The campfire created smoke. When morning came, they followed the smoke, or the smell, if they couldn’t see it. It made a lot of sense.

_The fire. The bloody campfire._

The annoyance of it pushed him forward, and he suddenly saw a break through the undergrowth. A sudden desperation to get out of hot and sticky forest consumed him, and he sprinted towards the opening, bursting out and into the light.

A river opened out before him, and Logan stopped at the very edge, almost falling in. Following the instructions from before, he waited for the other Ghost’s to go in front of him, before following them down the river.

“I’ve got a signal!” Merrick yelled, Logan only just able to hear him over the whistling of bullets flying around them.

“Call it in!” Kick all but yelled back, knowing the dire situation they were in.

Merrick started the call immediately, wasting no time in getting much needed help. “Command, this is team STALKERS requesting immediate extraction. Do you copy?”

The slightly static voice of ‘Command’ came in only a moment later. _“Team STALKERS, this is Command. Where are you?”_

Merrick hesitated a bit. “I’m not too sure. We’ve got trackers on us, courtesy of Keegan, though.”

A few tense seconds passed, bullets wising past their heads as they ran along the river. _“Got you. Have you still got the package?”_

 _Package? What package?_ He wondered, frowning.

“Yeah. Package is secure.” Merrick glanced back at him, and he suddenly realised what the package was – who the package was.

Him. He was the package.

He suddenly felt angry, and he wondered if he was on the right side. _Well, I don’t really have a choice. The Federation are shooting at them and me. That’s more than enough proof to be running. But still.... that doesn’t sit right with me._ Logan ignored the feeling the best he could, knowing he had no choice but to trust these men.

“ _Good. We’ve got boats coming to you. You’ll have to jump over the incoming waterfall to get to them, though. They’ll be with you in five minutes. Command, out.”_

The information buzzed through his brain, sending out distrustful calls of warning. _They called you a package! They handcuffed you! They can’t even trust you to go out alone! That’s more than enough to realise they’re not your friends!_ He ignored the negative feeds, knowing they would be his doom.

It was jump, or be killed, for him.

He would choose jump every time......

Or would he?

He continued to run for another minute, blocking out the pain and exhaustion that was starting to settle into his bones.

 _Just keep going.... Just keep going...._ He chanted, knowing that his body was starting to give in to the exhaustion. _If you don’t, you’ll die._ That last thought gave him a boost, and he ran faster, knowing the consequences that would befall him if he fell too far behind. 

“We’re almost there, guys! Just keep running!” Merrick yelled out, which somehow gave him more strength to keep running.

The sound of crashing water came to his ears first, and he felt relief wash over him. _We’re close. Real close._

Bullets whizzed past his head, and Logan ducked, feeling one hit the place his head had been a moment earlier. _That was close._ He thought, alarmed, before he saw one of the Ghost’s hurl himself over the edge of the cliff.

He hadn’t even realised they were that close, and as he got closer, he realised it was a long fall.

Would he survive? Would he even do it? Well, there’s only one way to find out.

Logan watched the other two Ghost’s fling themselves off of the cliff, and as he ran after them, he let his mind wander on what he wanted to do.

 _Do I jump, or let the Feds take me?_ He smirked. _Well, putting it that way, I don’t want to be back in the Pit again, or even die yet._ He took a deep breath. _That’s my decision._

Logan, without looking back, poured his last bit of strength into the run and took a leap of faith.

For a moment, he felt like he was on top of the world, flying like a bird in the sky, feeling free to do as he pleased.

And then he started falling, the confinement of his cage curling back around him as he plummeted towards the water.

It was nice, being in the air. He didn’t feel any pain, which only made the short stay better. It gave him relief that he didn’t think he’d get until a few months – or never, at what was happening around him.

And then, with a loud splash, he hit the water. His whole body jarred upward, and it felt like every bone had gone way up then back into its original position. Considering he had broken ribs, it was agonising to feel that, and he found he couldn’t breathe as he tried to pull his way to the surface.

As he swam upward, he noticed how his blood floated in the water, some of it coming from his bullet wound.

But he didn’t miss the darker splotches of blood from an unknown wound.

Logan hit the surface, and he took in a sharp breath as his ribs released his lungs, giving him the easy function to breathe again. Dark spots danced in his vision, and the pain was only worsening it.

He heard the sounds of a boat coming in, and he almost didn’t feel someone grabbing his arm and hurling him onto a solid surface.

His vision blurred, and he heard shouts from the people around him, as well as the bullets that were flying at them from the cliff edge.

He coughed, as he wasn’t sure if it was black from his deteriorating vision, or blood. Hands were on him, and he vaguely heard a pained yell, before his whole vision went black.

But he could still hear, and by the time he actually blacked out, he heard a familiar voice call out his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. Here's another chapter for you all.   
> I have a question, and I'd all like your honest opinion on it:  
> Is the summary fitting, or not quite right for this book? I know it's a little catchy, but I'm not sure if it's the right one for this story.   
> Thanks to anyone that comments about this. It'll be really helpful.   
> ~ BP2


	10. Chapter 10

**_ Chapter 10: _ **

Logan Walker woke to a loud and very quick beeping, confusion rippling through his bones. Shouts of unknown voices echoed around him, and he found that it really hurt him. The pain in his ribs was excruciating, as well as the shoulder bullet wound, but there was something else that was bugging him.

His stomach. It felt like it had been ribbed open, stitched, then ripped back open again.

It didn’t take him long to realise he’d gotten a bullet in there.

But how? Where the _fuck_ was he? How the hell did he get a bullet lodged in his stomach? Questions that couldn’t be answered were the worst, but he knew he wouldn’t get them answered just yet.

So, he let the topic slide.

His shirt had been ripped off earlier, he finally realised, feeling someone pressing something over his stomach’s bullet wound. He couldn’t help the yell of pain that escaped his lips as it agitated his ribs, feeling like he’d cracked all six of them.

He heard a few gasps as he started fidgeting, trying to find a way out of the pain. He opened his eyes to blinding light, squinting to find out what was happening.

The recognition that they were moving very fast down an unfamiliar hallway settled in quite fast, with the lights flying over his body being more than a hint to it, as well as the distant rumble of the cart he was on. People in masks were holding the edges of the medical cart, Logan finally realisation they were in some sort of hospital.

It only made him more confused.

_How long have I been out?_

Another question that would have to wait another day.

Logan closed his eyes in pain and stifled another yell as they passed over a bump in the floor, sending a painful jolt up his body.

He growled in effect to the lady pushing a cloth firmly over his wound, feeling blood still trickle down his stomach. The smell of the metallic substance of blood was horrendous, evading his nostrils and definitely stinking up the whole facility.

_His_ blood.

That was not reassuring in any way, shape, or form.

He wanted so badly to get up and run, to make their lives a lot harder, but he knew this was the only way for him to survive.

But when he opened his eyes, the feeling went away in an instant.

Hesh was running along with the doctors, hand on the carts railings, giving him such a worried and panicked look that Logan was sure _he_ would start to have a panic attack.

He arched his back as the nurse yet again pressed harder into his stomach, damn sure that she would kill him if nothing else did. He didn’t yell, though.

Because for some reason, he wanted to look strong in front of this man – this _Ghost_.

And he wanted to know why it mattered so much to him.

The thought didn’t last long secured in his brain though, because the nurse pressed harder than ever, and he felt something crack and another thing pop in his stomach.

This time, he couldn’t hold in the terrible and almost screech of pain that escaped his mouth. The intense pain was starting to make black spots dance in front of his eyes, and the echoes of all the voices around him just wasn’t helping his aching ears.

His fists clenched so hard the knuckles turned white, and the uneven, broken or very long nails dug into his skin, feeling blood start to trickle out of his clenched fists.

He suddenly felt something stick into his arm, and he flashed open his eyes, finding the source immediately.

A needle, and it was getting injected into his blood stream.

Logan felt a sudden tired and exhausted feeling spread though his bones, and panic raced through him.

_What the hell was in that? Why am I feeling tired?_ His questions turned into rage. _Don’t you fucking do that again, you bastard!_

Throughout the pain, Logan gave the doctor that ‘needled’ him a death glare, a very dangerous snarl planting itself on him lips. But one look at Hesh, being startled and seemingly saying ‘no’, overruled the whole feeling, and he suddenly felt at peace as he slowly drifted off.

But the question was: why? Why did he feel this way around this guy?

God, he knew the questions were going to plague him for the next few weeks.

And it just made everything worse.

///-0-0-/\\-0-0-\\\\\

Dreams can be weird things. Sometimes they can hold fantasies. Great fantasises. Sometimes they can hold terrible thoughts and possibilities, also known as nightmares. And sometimes, on rare occasions, they can hold memories.

This time, it was a rare occasion.

Too bad almost all of his memories were torture.

/\~/\

_Logan woke groggily in a chair, feeling pain like he had been stabbed by a knife a thousand times all over his body, which wouldn’t be that far from the truth._

_He listened in to his surroundings and, finding it safe, opened his eyes. He was strapped into his usual chair, bloodied from his last confrontation with his interrogator, now known as Sam._

_But what he saw was enough to make his face pale._

_A whole tray of syringes with various coloured liquids lay perfectly arranged on a tray, which was on the middle of the table, the other chair to the right of him, just out of legs reach._

The last time I as here.... _He cut the thought off, feeling sick._ No, No.... Don’t think about the horrors to come.

_Really, the last time he woke up in the same place as he had fallen unconscious was when he got to play a game of **‘have a mystery substance’** of needle after needle until he knocked _ himself _unconscious. As terrible as it sounds, he thought of it as a blessing; he really hadn’t wanted to continue the experience any longer, and what he had been seeing –_ hallucinating _, he reminded himself – was terrible. Too much for him to even think of._

_His head snapped up as he heard the door creak open, Rorke coming through the bloodied door, much to his surprise._

_The man organising his torture never came in to do the torture himself, after all._

_Rorke smiled up at him as he shut the door behind him, Logan meeting the creepy smile with his death glare, the man not even acknowledging his attempt to look menacing._

_“Ah, you’re finally awake. Took you long enough; nearly a whole day sleeping is more than enough time to recover from your wounds.” Rorke paced in front of him, smirking evilly. “Now, I’m sure you remember this game. I stick needles into you, you squirm and scream, then the game stops when you fall unconscious or until I run out of needles. Ready?” Rorke didn’t give him time to reply, grabbing the first needle – one full of a yellow liquid – and stabbed him in the right arm, the arm still recovering from the break he couldn’t remember. “Good. Let’s start.”_

_Logan cursed when he stabbed him with the needle, and paled when he felt the substance get injected into his bloodstream, tensing as he felt it flow through his body in five seconds flat. He had already started sweating badly, and dread filled him when he realised what was coming._

Seizure, then- _Logan gasped, seeing the gleeful eyes of his torturer before he started shaking uncontrollably, unable to breathe properly as his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and back, pain hitting him at all sides so badly that he felt tears gather up behind his seizing eyes. Saliva flung from his mouth, splattering his ripped and dirty clothes, coughing up blood amongst it all in an attempt to breathe. He couldn’t pay any attention to Rorke’s laughing as agony spread through his body, the chair feeling like it was going to break with all of the wobbling it was doing – or was that his back?_

_His body suddenly stopped its seizure, and as he opened his very sore eyes, he nearly stopped breathing as he saw a sight none would ever want to see._

_His worst nightmare._

_He was bound to the same chair as he was before, an open field laying before him. Dead soldiers lay on the bloodied grass; their guts blow out or just killed in the most gruesome way possible. Other soldiers of a different team were walking around with various guns, lightly kicking every person they came across, seeing if they were dead or alive. This team was the Federation._

_They had won that war._

_He suddenly felt pain in every side of his body, and he looked down, surprised to see he too had been shot multiple times, agony flaring through his stomach area, arms, legs, and chest. Someone was in front of him, and he suddenly found Rorke standing there in all his glory, looking smug._

_“We won, Logan. You chose the wrong side to fight with. We were with you at the start, and you just abandoned us! I’m disgusted in you. We were best friends, and now....now I have no place for you in my heart.” Rorke took a 44. Magnum from his holster, and pointed it at him, before lowering it, smirking. “You know, we killed the Ghosts. Your so called ‘friends’ betrayed you, tried to run when we ambushed them. You stayed behind to cover for them, but you can see how that ended up for you. Your nothing, and now, you’ll die because of your mistakes.” Rorke pointed the gun at his head, while Logan’s own mind was going wild._

No.... No way! They.... They wouldn’t have left me. _His brain told him otherwise, showing false images._ Those.... Those bastards! You’re all dickheads! Rorke, you killed my father, and I hate you. The Ghosts are all pieces of shit for leaving me alone. I don’t even know how I got here, but what I do know is that they abandoned me, and now I’m going to pay the price.

_Logan stared bravery into Rorke’s eyes, before feeling a stinging pain in his shoulder. He snapped back into reality, his eyes meeting the man that was about to kill him, pulling back an empty needle. Logan didn’t feel the blood rolling down his arm, or the agony in his wrists. He could only feel his quick breathing, the sweat rolling down his face in waves, and see the dark brown eyes of the man that had killed his farther._

_Logan let out an enraged scream, still seeing and feeling what wasn’t real; the betrayal and the reality of the fake scene still fresh in his mind._ It’s not real! **They betrayed me!** It’s not real! **They left me to die!** It’s not real! **They didn’t care about me!** It’s not real! _He argued with himself, the mixed emotions jumping around his brain like a bunny on steroids._

_Rorke crouched in front of him, smirking like the bastard he truly is. “Did you have fun in there?” Logan growled like an animal, feeling all traces of humanity fall off him for that moment in time as he snarled, ready to tear the man to shreds. “Well, it looks like that got you hyped up. Let’s do some more, shall we?”_

_In response to Rorke’s words, the bastard picked up a needle with pinkish coloured liquid in it, but it wasn’t like he was paying much attention to him. His gaze had gone slightly red, and a dangerous snarl escaped his lips._

**Kill.... Him....Kill him.... KILL RORKE!**

_Before he could try anything, Rorke stabbed him with the needle, which somehow didn’t hurt him like last time. He didn’t even feel the liquid get injected into his bloodstream like last time. But what he did feel was the deadly rage that had built up in him, and the feeling that he could do anything if this man was gone._

_Because he had killed his father. Because his friends had betrayed him. Because he was going to win the war._

_Because what he had done to him was beyond horrendous, and he wouldn’t allow him to go any further._

_Not that his animalistic self had recognised that. He could only feel the urge to kill like a shark smelling blood._

_Logan flung forward in his seat, nearly ripping off his skin, and let himself yell and scream out profanities at the man, still trying to get out of his restraints._

_Rorke only smiled at his antics. “Your growling, Logan. You’ve embraced the animal inside of you. Now, all we have to do is tame it.”_

_As soon as he finished that sentence, agony spread through his body, and he had to close his eyes and hold back a scream, his inner animal leaving him as soon as the pain had started. The pain went on forever all over his body, and he took the last resort to this amount of pain._

_He tried to bash his head against the back of the chair, and succeeded, feeling a blistering pain in the back of his head. He didn’t care._

_Because he needed to get out of the agony. Now._

_Logan slammed all of his body against the sides of the chair, his wrists protesting in agony of their broken bones, and his head sending pain rolling down his neck._

_All of the pain he was inflicting on himself finally started to take effect, and he realised that there was too much pain for his body to handle._

_He excepted the opening to unconsciousness with open arms, willing to do anything to get out of the agony his body was in._

///-0-0-/\\-0-0-\\\\\

Logan woke quickly, feeling the erratic beating of his heart rate pumping into a machine, sending signals to doctors that something was wrong.

_Wait... Doctors? Heart machine?_ His thoughts tumbled into the deep end when he remembered everything that had happened in the dream, and he immediately felt everything on him, ranging from the sweat rolling down his face to the tubes and needles that were connected to various medical equipment and substances.

_Needles._ He felt himself pale considerably, before he felt a hand brush his right arm, still feeling as if it were broken, and he swore he could still feel the ghost marks of where the needles had been stuck into him so long ago.

But it didn’t seem long ago. And all he could think about was that Rorke was still there, still sticking needles into his arms – making him recover so they could do another round when he had recovered enough to do another round.

His eyes snapped open, and his left hand flung into the wrist of the hand, where he quickly twisted so the unidentified person didn’t have a chance to retaliate. He heard a pained grunt, and his vision focused in on a man in a dark blue suit with short grey hair and tiny glasses that were perched on the bridge of his nose.

_Not Rorke._ His thoughts told him, but he didn’t care.

He needed answers.

Logan didn’t waste any time, using his right hand to grab the man’s other hand and quickly pulling him into his bed, the doctor slamming into his bed and, while he was hunched over in pain, let go of his wrists and grabbed the collar of his shirt, keeping his pinned there so he couldn’t escape him.

“Who are you, and where the hell am I?” Logan snarled, not meaning to let his anger out on him, but didn’t really care about what the man was feeling.

The older doctor raised his hands in surrender, looking him dead in the eye, which was sort of hard considering his chin was nearly resting on Logan’s leg. “I’ll answer your questions if you would just let me go.” The doctor compromised, sounding candid.

Logan gazed at him with calculating eyes, feeling his anger pumping in and out of him in waves. _He seems to be being honest, but is he really? He could just be bluffing, and could immediately get someone to restrain me, or just run away._ He sighed, not caring what the other man thought. _Do what you think is right._

That seemed to get a firm response out of him, because he slowly loosened his grip on the doctor, who was patiently waiting for him to let him go. When Logan had finally let go, the doctor stumbled backward and away from him, his eyes holding slight fear. _Huh. I scared him. Does it matter to me? Do I care?_ Logan rid himself of the pointless thoughts clouding the real questions he needed to know. _If this guy runs god help me-_

His trail of thought ended when the man started to straighten his standard uniform, giving him a slightly annoyed look, before his calm and collected face came back on, like it was a mask he used every day of his life. Then, finally, the man spoke in a slight American accent.

“Thanks for that, Logan. Now, I’ll do as you asked,” The man took a deep breath before continuing. “I am Dr. Henry Johnson, and we are currently in a small hospital inside our HQ.” Henry seemed to hesitate, before continuing. “Welcome to the other side of the war, Logan Walker.”

Logan stared at Henry, yet didn’t really stare at him, lost in his own thoughts. _Small hospital.... HQ.... Their side... And Hesh beside my cart..._ Logan’s eyes widened in realisation. _Oh... no.... no... I can’t be here.... they may have saved me, yes, but.... god, the betrayal is so fresh.... so..._ real _...._

A hand on his right shoulder broke him out of his troubled thoughts, and he almost did the same move as before, but restrained himself, knowing it was Dr. Johnson that was touching him. _Speaking of which, my shoulder should be killing me right now._ In response to his thought, Logan looked at said shoulder, finding it wrapped in bandaging.

_Painkillers? Maybe.... let’s see this..._ Logan pulled off his covers, much to the doctor’s distress, thinking he was getting out of bed. He ignored him, staring down at his surprisingly bare chest, finding bandages wrapped around it, especially the middle of it. He remembered feeling the most pain coming from there, so he reached a hand down and took off half of the biggest bandage, being in the middle.

As soon as he lifted enough to be able to see the wound clearly, he wasn’t surprized to find a bullet wound right in the centre of it, fresh stitches covering an inch of his stomach – likely double the size of the bullet itself.

_If I can see stitches here, then that means it passed straight through._ He summarised, cocking his head to get a slightly better look at it. _It doesn’t look too great, either. The stitches look fresh, too. Maybe a day old?_ Logan, ignoring the doctors demands (sorry, _requests_ ) and poked the wound, surprized when a fresh wave of pain raced through him, bad enough for him to grit his teeth. _Well, looks like it’s pretty bad if the painkillers aren’t dulling that. Actually, I bet the ribs are amplifying the pain._

He tuned back into what the doctor was saying, only doing so because he wanted another question to be answered. “-that or I will have to get someone else in here that will restrain you. You know that I don’t want to do that, so please-” Logan cut him off, anger coursing through his veins.

“Condition?” He asked, using all of his willpower not to lose control of his anger.  

_If he keeps talking like that, I might as well snap his neck._ Logan thought darkly, still feeling the animal at the front mind, ready to pounce if provoked by this somewhat annoying man.

Henry stopped in his _requests_ , giving him a strange look. “What?” The confusion was evident in the man’s voice, and Logan would have laughed if he hadn’t been in the bitter mood that he had gained from his dream and amplified by the doctor.

_You’re an idiot, for a doctor._ If Logan had been in his right mind, he would have countered and told himself that the man was only surprized by his sudden attention on him. _First, you come in to check me up and touch me. Then you start protesting about what I’m doing wrong, when I’m just curious. Then you threaten a very unstable man, which you should have gotten the message when I nearly broke your wrist. Lastly, you have no idea what I’m talking about even when people ask you about the condition of your patients. How the_ fuck _did you become a doctor when you’re such a sly bastard? When you don’t analyse a patient’s emotions? When you threaten an angry patient? When you have no idea what the fuck I’m talking about. Like, what the_ fuck _are you doing as an army doctor?_

_At least he’s an honest fucker._ The thought was whisked away in his anger, and he almost ( _almost_ ) lost his cool when Henry asked him what he meant.

_He_ still _has no fucking idea what I’m talking about after one minute? Who the fuck does he think he is? The queen? He’s like one of those dumb guys that only know how to steal: they always get what they deserve._

“What do you mean?” The doctor demanded in an angry tone, and this time Logan couldn’t hold the wall that was keeping the ocean of anger away from the man.

“I’m asking you – you _fucking_ idiot – what the _hell_ my condition is! People ask you _shit_ like this every _fucking_ day, so why the _fuck_ do you have no _bloody_ _clue_ about what I’m _talking about_? Who the _fuck_ do you think you are, not knowing _shit_ like this?” He almost roared, fists clenched so hard and anger and annoyance so high that he thought the animal was going to fly into the territory of his perfect mood and live happily there for eternity.

His eyesight had gone slightly dark by now, while the doctor stood there, petrified by his scary movements, even though he had no knowledge on what he was doing.

He felt pain and a large amount of pressure start to well up behind his eyes, and he fought the urge to put a hand to his head and groan, wanting his question answered.

**_Well, you’ll get it if you let me out. You’ll get all the information you want out of him, and then he’ll die. We’ve got all the time in the world, you know. Just you – the haunted and good-seeing human, and me – the monster torture created. What do you choose? Getting answers through fear, or the kindness inside? I say for the fear, and I’ll keep on demanding it until you let me out. Just let me have some fun, will you? You let me out and kill a couple people holding your ‘friends’ before, so why not do it again?_ **

The thoughts that weren’t his crashed into his skull, feeling like he was getting hit by a terrible headache, despite not showing any form of emotion.

_No! I may be annoyed at the man, but he doesn’t deserve to die! He’s just doing his job!_ All of the anger from before had been long ago forgotten, the voice of the ‘animal’ he was harnessing having captured all of his attention. _He may not be smart, but I can always find out what’s going on. I just need to keep my cool and I’ll be fine, and I’ll get answers my own way. Not through unnecessary fear and death._

A trembling voice entered ears, but he felt like he was underwater, not really hearing it. “Well... You’ve got a few cracked ribs, alone with a snapped one that punctured your lung. There’s also a-” Henry’s scared voice was drowned out by the thundering voice of the animal, the voice much too loud and painful to be ignored.

**_Look at him, scared shitless from your powerful display. He doesn’t deserve to live, not knowing shit about what you’re asking when he should know by his years of experience. He’s told to be a pro, when really he’s just a cowardly man. I say kill him, and if you don’t let me, I’ll force you to._ **

_You can’t do that!_ Logan argued. _You’re nothing but a voice in my brain! You won’t get what you want, even if I have to go through a world of pain to get it!_

His determination to beat the animal by his own game was huge, and he really wanted to show it up.

**_Yes; go ahead. Play my game. I’m sure you’ll fail and kill the man instead!_** The snarl of the animal inside his head was heard, before agony pierced his brain, and he couldn’t help the cry of pain, the immediate motion of his head going in his hands, the closing of his eyes, and clenching of his jaw that jumped through his poker face.

Namely, the poker face was ruined.

**_You can’t win._** _Yes, I can! **I’m stronger than you.** No, you’re not! **You’re too soft on man.** No, I’m more human then you! **This is a battle you cannot win.**_

Logan, despite being stuck in his thoughts, could hear cries of agony and lots of man’s yells and footsteps and...

He realised right there and then that the cries of agony were his own.

He was whisked back into his thoughts not a moment later, the animal inside of him trying in vain to take over.

**_Let me out!_** _No! **Let me kill that worthless man!** No! **I’ll crush you!** No, _I’ll _crush you!_ A newfound determination raced through him, and with a sudden burst of willpower, he felt the presence fall deep into his mind once again.

**_Nooooooo!_** He heard the fast-growing distant voice of the animal as it fell deep into his thoughts, but Logan didn’t pay it any heed in his attention.

Because he was so tired. So very tired.

He heard the yells and sounds of doctors and equipment being moved around before he left reality, unsure as to what would happen next.

But not before one thought.

_God help me before I lose control of myself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Could that last bit get any more cliche?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I kinda forgot about this website and...well, you see what happened.  
> I'll be posting the rest I've got on here today to get you all up to date.  
> And remember, I'm always updating on Fanfiction.net under this very username!

**_ Chapter 11: _ **

“.... He was yelling and screaming suddenly and I didn’t know what to do! It was like he was in agony – in a world of his own!” Henry cried, trying to explain the events in a mad rush. “It was like he was in a distribute with himself! I swear I could hear words coming out of his mouth while he screamed! He shouldn’t have even been screaming! I’d put him on as much painkillers as I would dare, and even then, he still felt pain! I....I don’t know what happened!”

Right after Hesh heard that words might have been coming out of Logan’s mouth while he screamed, he’d been trying to shut the doctor up. But, try as he might, Henry just wouldn’t shut up until he didn’t have anything left to say.

So, it was a fair chance the old man was in shock, even if he shouldn’t be; the doctor had years of experience under his sleeves, he should know that anything can happen with his patients.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up, hold up! What do you mean ‘screaming out words while he was yelling’? What do you mean?” Hesh asked urgently, trying to figure what had happened to his baby brother.

Keegan stood next to him in the hallway, the hallway itself deserted with Logan’s room right in front of them, the window in front of them showing an uncomfortable and pained looking Logan, like he was dreaming shit things – something he didn’t think was too far from the truth.

When the doctor didn’t reply, Keegan stepped in. “Hey, I know what happened was fairly eventful, but you need to calm down and tell us what happened. Start again; take your time. We’ve got time, you’ve got time. Just breathe, and tell us. No one’s going to hurt you.” The doctor looked down and closed his eyes, glasses being fiddled with in his hands, while Keegan gave Hesh a pointed look, to which he gave him an innocent ‘what?’ look, not feeling guilty at all.

_Logan could have gotten hurt. This man could have said something that triggered something in him._ Hesh closed his eyes in pain. _Logan....Oh Logan...._

He opened his eyes, and was glad to see Henry ready to speak.

“Well.... Ok, sir. I’ll start from the beginning.” Henry took a deep breath before continuing. “I was checking out his vital signs when his heart monitor started to beep like crazy. At first, I thought he was dying, but when I accidently brushed past him on my way to check his vital signs, he grabbed my wrist and held me down! I thought he was going to kill me with how angry he was!” The man stopped his explanation, gasping for breath in panic.

_He needs help._ His mind told him, and he would have helped if his body was doing want he wanted. _Find out what happened. Help Logan._ His thoughts were only those, swirling around in groups so large and fast that he was starting to feel sick. _No, don’t fall when your brother needs you. You need to listen to what this man has to say, then find a course of action._

Keegan took a step towards the panicked man, rubbing soothing circles into his back. “Hey, he’s not going to hurt you. You’re alright. You’ve passed the worst of it.” He gave Hesh an apologetic gaze, knowing the words were filling him in rage.

_You know that Logan’s unstable, and you know how...._ bad _I get if you say something like the with me around. You know it just reminds me of the videos of Logan in the pit and the images that can pop up with the torture...._

He’d been thinking about the videos for the two days Logan had been out. A lot. In fact, it was probably all he had been thinking about for the past two days, other than hoping his brother was alright while holding his hand by his side, trying to ignore his swollen wrists.

He remembered what the doctors that gave him an x-ray told him, just that morning, standing in this very hallway alone, with the time being around 2:30am.

_“We were looking at his x-rays earlier today, and we thought you would like to know what the extent of his injuries were. But we would just like to clarify that some of the things we might say might trouble you, Sir. Do you want us to proceed?” Dr. Kay asked him, with Hesh urging him onward. “Well, as they say, ‘travel at your own risk’.” The light try for a joke failed to reach him, and the doctor immediately buried his head back into his patient’s report. “We found several fractures in his wrists that haven’t healed properly, which is clearly visible in the way his wrists have swollen up. We-” Hesh cut him off at that moment, a question jumping around his mind so quick he couldn’t bite his tongue to keep it in._

_“Then why is his right wrist bigger than the other one?” Hesh near blurted out, with the other doctor, Dr. White, giving him a frown._

_Dr. Kay gave him a small smirk, besides the situation. “That’s what I was getting to, young man. You see, along with the multiple fractures, we found a lot of.... fragments in his hand.” Hesh opened his mouth to speak but Dr. Kay beat him to it. “Before you ask, these fragments are not bone. They are, in fact, fragments from a bullet.”_

What? But....then that would mean he got shot in the hand multiple times.... wouldn’t that also mean the bones in his hand have been shattered? If so, then how the hell could he throw knifes and shot like it was nothing? _He must have looked very confused, because the doctor just laughed._

_“Oh, Sir, your face is priceless. I might as well take a picture!” Dr. Kay laughed, before switching back to a serious face so fast Hesh thought he might have switched personalities. “Now, back to business.” A pause, then: “Do you recall the time when Mr. Walker was taken away from you?” At his slightly tense nod, the doctor continued. “Well, at the time Rorke broke his arm. This would have resulted in sure infection to other parts of his body due to the body trying to heal the arm. If Mr. Walker saw any doctors in his time, it would provide insight as to why he’s still alive, and in as good condition as he is today.... even with his countless injuries. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that if he was shot anywhere else while all of the fluid was working around the arm, then bullet shrapnel would have travelled where all the fluid was going: the arm. His body would have rejected the shrapnel in usage as a healing product and let it continue on its course to his hand. The fragments would then effectively lodge themselves into secure places around the hand, then wrist after several fractures, giving them the perfect home for the time being.” As soon as he concluded his explanation, Hesh was on with another question in a flash._

_“Then why would he be able to move it to such levels, and inflicting little to no pain on himself?”_

_Dr. Kay only smirked this time, much to his pleasure._

_He was tired. He wanted to go sleep. He didn’t want the man’s remarks to make him stay out any longer._

_But that wasn’t as important as this was, especially since his brother was finally in his sights after a whole year of torture._

_“As much as I would have expected of you, Sir.” A quick question of_ ‘why does he have to remark on everything I ask?’ _went through his head before Dr. Kay continued. “Well, the only explanation for that is he’s had them in there for so long that he’s used to it and doesn’t recognise low level pain for what it is. For him, instead of feeling like nails are digging through his wrists, it would feel like a dull ache going through them. And to answer your next question, the other wrist is significantly smaller because it’s only been fractured once or twice and not healed properly, luckily for him.” Dr. Kay concluded, waiting for a few seconds._

_Thoughts were tumbling around his brain, and even though he knew he had so many questions to ask, he knew the doctor wouldn’t be able to answer them._

_No, these questions were for Logan._

_When Dr. Kay realised no questions were going to be asked, he continued with that slightly childish smirk. “Now, I’ll go on to the chest area....”_

Hesh gave a mental sigh. He knew he should go over what had happened with the other areas, but he was still trying to figure out stuff about the wrists – trying to finish the border of in the jigsaw puzzle before finding the place to stick it on the outskirts.

But why not just ask his rather unstable brother that might try to kill him or get very, very stubborn very, very quick?

Hesh suddenly smashed back into his own body, where he could hear Henry halfway through his explanation.

A quick thought of very interesting curses flew through his head as he listened in, annoyed that he had allowed his mind to wander off. “-introduced myself and where we were per his request, and he seemed a bit....out of it. I tried to comfort him, but then he took off the covers, and I went to stop him because I thought he was getting up. He... He started to take off the bandages, and I tried to stop him, but I was afraid that he was going to...to hurt me again. He even poked them, and I thought he was going to rip the stitches! By then I was starting to reason with him, but then he just asked a question out of the blue. I....I....” Dr. Henry faltered for a second, where Keegan gave him a little nudge through words.

“Just take your time. I know this has been a lot to go through for you, so don’t feel pressured or stressed. We have all the time in the world.” Keegan lied (sorry, _truthfully told_ ) him, giving him a bit of space.

_Bullshit!_ Hesh let the curse word slice through his brain, making a little crack of annoyance run down his seemingly calm mask. _I know it’s the best way to get him to tell us everything, but in reality, we only have 30 minutes before we’re called down for an assessment of the successful (_ could we call it successful? _) mission._ Hesh knew how damn annoying it was repeating _every single detail_ of what happened on the mission to a superior officer, and then tell the facts of what happened, why they went there, and if they were successful or not. Really, if they got out in one piece with a former POW, then you would think that their fellow officers would think they had succeeded in the mission. But no, they just have to be complete dicks about it and make them state the facts they already know. Maybe it was just to reassure it was them speaking, or even to make sure they hadn’t suffered a bad concussion resulting in memory loss. But what he did know was that it was complete and utter _bullshit_ and he hated every single second of it.

...well, except when he was talking about kicking ass. Now _that_ was something worth talking about....

Hesh was taken out of his musings when Keegan nudged him, staring at him with a tight expression, making him wonder whether he’d been caught red handed in his daydreaming. His worries were put aside, however, when Keegan gave him a tiny shake of his head. _He saw my annoyance, then. That’s alright; I need him to know how I hate lying and wasting my time with this old man._ He didn’t let the guilt of slight rudeness hit him, as the devil himself had started talking, albeit slowly much to his displeasure.

“He asked me about his.... condition, and I wasn’t sure what to say. It was a bit of a shock that he had been ignoring me and all, and even more so when he let anger out into his voice. Yet I still didn’t know what he meant, and knowing me I asked what he meant. I kept on asking what he meant, and me being a stupid bugger didn’t see the anger growing in his eyes. Then....err......He sort of.... lost it.” Henry looked a bit confused at this, and, Hesh being the questioner he was, asked him a question.

“What do you mean ‘lost it’?” Hesh almost growled, feeling confused yet somehow.... angry, like the anger that had been clawing at his brother had decided to haunt him too.

_Calm yourself._ The rational part of his mind reasoned, knowing he was going a bit over-the-top. _If you go on like this, you’ll scare him away._ At this thought, he looked up at Keegan and Henry, finding the latter staring at him in slight fear and Keegan in a mix of confusion and annoyance.

He realised right there and then that he was in the wrong here. In his haste to find out what had happened, he’d shut down the calm and understanding part of his mind and replaced it with something else.

Before he knew it, he was apologising. “Sorry. I’m just a bit.... yeah. Maybe I should leave this to you, Keegan.” He knew what he was saying was the right thing – knew that even if leaving would leave him in the dark a bit longer, it would be quicker for Keegan to hear his story without him.

With that thought, Hesh walked past them without a word and opened the door to Logan’s room. He walked into the room and closed the door behind him, well aware of the two sets of eyes boring into the back of his skull.

He looked over his brother, finding the bedsheet off, showing his very damaged stomach and very damaged pants he had worn throughout their journey through the forest. His eyes wandered up his body; his bruised and cut ridden legs probably the best in all of his brother’s injuries. He saw his right Achilles heel, slightly bruised, and his left ankle having a large bandage wrapped around the midsection; a chunk of it having been taken off from the fall. His arms were very bruised and had multiple cuts surrounding them, his hands wrapped in bandages from the rather deep scraped he had received. His wrists were only badly bruised, still purple even after two days in hospital. Bother his shoulders were bandaged tightly, one securing a bullet wound and the other holding the dodgy relocation of his once dislocated shoulder.

Hesh looked away, knowing that what he would see next would hurt him. _Go ahead. You need to see if the doctors are correct in the extent of his injuries._ Hesh, now feeling newfound determination, looked over at his brother’s midsection.

His stomach was covered in bandages, yet it didn’t stop the purple and blue and yellow bruises that occupied the space, it didn’t stop the multiple scars from his torture to show, and it certainly didn’t stop the nausea that hit him like a he had been hit by a train.

_Don’t get sick. Don’t even think about how he got them. Just look at his face._ And he did. He watched the pained face of his brother, peace somehow refusing to claim him. He saw the cut above his right eye, three stiches residing there with special medical tape. He saw the tenseness of his jaw where he seemed to be clenching his teeth. If Logan opened his eyes, Hesh could only imagine the pain, anger and sorrow that would reside in them.

Hesh stood there for another minute, just staring at his brother, no thoughts coming to mind. He stared at the man he had been desperately trying to find for a year. He stared at the man he couldn’t _hope_ to _hug_ and _cry_ and _talk to_ , and all because he had amnesia. All because of _Rorke_.

The name sent anger racing through his once depressed mind, yet no curse words could reach him.

Maybe it was the fact he hadn’t slept since the boat ride. Maybe it was being in Logan’s presence. Whatever one it was, he knew that he just had to stop racing around and stop panicking and....and....

He was at a blank. No thoughts to calm his troubled thoughts.

Nothing.

Then: _sit down._  

And he did. He walked over, somewhat hypnotic, and sat in the closest chair beside Logan, closest to the wall and, thankfully, held cover for all of the windows except for the ones leading into the outside world.

He stared at Logan, before finding his right hand hanging out of his temporary bed and, without thinking about it, took his limp hand in his own.

_Oh, Logan. You’ve been through so much and...and I don’t know how to comfort you. You seem so troubled, yet I can’t ask you what is wrong because you shut me out. I can’t tell you everything’s going to be alright because I don’t know myself. I can’t tell you I miss you and that I love you because you can’t remember me or the Ghosts or dad...and it’s killing me. God, Logan...why do you have to make everything so difficult?_ He sudden torrent in words brought the tears crashing down, making him look down at the ground in a depressed manner. _Why, Logan? Just why?_

_Why do you have to make this so hard for me?_

**/// //// //// //// ///**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the boring part. This is definitely one of the worst chapters in the term of 'boring' but i promise that it gets better. Especially next chapter. ;)


	12. Chapter 12

**_ Chapter 12: _ **

Hesh was holding his hand. He’d known that for a while now; he’d woken up about an hour ago to see him sleeping in the chair that was parked right next to his bed. He’d come to terms with this a long time ago, too, and for some reason he didn’t want him to let go.

Logan had been staring up at the wall for the hour he’d been up, ignoring the dull ache that was slowly spreading throughout his body, driving him insane and just making him think about everything.... well, not everything.

Just one thing.

_The monster. The animal. The demon I’ve been harbouring. Rorke said he’d created it, but I can’t help but feel someone else created it...someone like_ me _....I know it was created in The Pit, but I don’t know how. What if it was something that was small when I got there, but amplified while I was in there? What if the personality switch plan did this to me? What if I became who I needed to be?_

Well, this was what he became, because he knew that he had swapped more than half of his real personality for his fake, and he was angry at himself for that. He knew the consequences, yet he knew what would have happened if he hadn’t.

He’d been stuck between a rock and a hard place, and he’d chosen to push the rock away from the cave that had been his prison and _just get away._

But, even if the monster that had almost taken him over wasn’t the least of his worries, he had other things to worry about.

Such as the dull pain that was spreading through his body at alarming rates, getting worse by the second.

He’d been feeling like shit since he had woken up. Really, he knew the painkillers were wearing off, and even if he wanted to leave he knew his physical ability to do so was non-existent. If he got a wheelchair, however, he could wheel down the halls with an AK-47 in his right hand, firing at anything that moved while his left pushed the wheelchair along.

_Ahh....Good images...._ He let himself smile, but not laugh, due to the pain in his ribs that continued to spike in pain whenever he breathed or held his breath. _Err....Why do I have to be stuck with shit like cracked ribs? I know for a fact that I won’t be able to walk without the painkillers in my system, but this might be my only time to explore and find out more about these guys...._ Logan sighed, knowing that even if he wanted to do more, his body just wouldn’t be able to handle the pressure. _Maybe when I get better. Patience is the key, Logan. If you had patience in The Pit, then you can have patience here._

He stared at the white ceiling, darkened from the shadows night brought along, with no thoughts for a couple minutes, listening to Hesh’s soft snoring and just waiting for the pain to reach levels that even he couldn’t withstand. Don’t get him wrong; torture had hardened him in ways even he didn’t know the full extent of, but pain could still get to him if bad enough. 

And, quite frankly and possibly crazily, he wanted to see just how far he could go before he had to get help.

He focused on the pain, taking a breath and feeling at least one of his ribs move slightly in the wrong direction, sending pain through him. Another wave hit him, and he decided to distract himself with his rather troubling thoughts.

_Hesh....I remember what you told me the night after I strangled you; when I woke up and you three came over to me. You told me I could trust you with anything and....and you told me I was terrified, and you were right. I was scared. I was reliving something I don’t even want to relive. You were spot on. But...I remember that you told me I could trust you and how I could tell you anything. You told me I didn’t have to and that I was free to do what I wanted._ He shook his head, wincing as a slightly sharp pain went up his neck from the burn. _Then, later on, you cut yourself off. I think you were saying something about how you know something. Then you told me about how you could tell when anyone was lying. Were you going to say how you know when I’m lying, or was it something else entirely?_

Logan turned his gaze to Hesh, who was lying back in the chair beside him, holding his hand rather tightly for a man that was asleep. _Do you know me, Hesh? Do you know who I am?_

As he stared at Hesh’s sleeping face, he felt a headache start to occur. It was tiny at first, and he thought it was because of the pain.

God, was he wrong.

As he continued to stare at the Ghost’s peaceful face, the headache started to escalate into a rather bad pounding that made him wince every time it hit him.

_Why....the fuck....am I....getting...this?_ His thoughts continued to stop and go as pounds racked his brain, so painful that he had to clench his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut just in an attempt to stop it. _Stop...please....STOP!_

Just as he was beginning to twist and turn and _groan_ in a way to try to stop (he meant get help; he’ll never admit it, though) the pain, he realised just what was happening.

**_You thought you could escape me, did you? Well, you were wrong, and I’m here to complete the job I said I would complete._ **

/// //// //// //// ///

**_Logan Walker_ **

/// //// //// //// ///

**Time Passed: Unknown**

Logan’s head buzzed with pain, his whole body protesting in agonising ways as he groggily opened his eyes, blinding light entering his vision. He groaned, putting an aching hand in front of his eyes in an attempt to block the sunlight.

His ears were aching, but he could still hear the birdsong and chatter of the wildlife. A foul stench creeped up his nostrils, and he could almost taste the metallic substance. He could feel a sticky substance encasing his stomach and something hard like a second layer of skin encased around his hands, legs and arms.

That was about the time thoughts came rushing into his head.

_What happened? How am I even here? What is that smell? What did I do?_ It was true. He could feel a troublesome and cold feeling spreading throughout his body in a way that only meant one thing: he’d done something terribly wrong.

So, why couldn’t he remember it?

_Even though I can’t remember anything of my past, I should be able to remember this. So why-_ A thought so terrible and dire entered his mind, and he suddenly had the feeling that he was right. _No....NO!_

The animal had been there, and he knew what it had done.

In a frantic effort to find out what had happened and if he was wrong, he ripped his hand away from his face and looked at himself.

He felt bile start to rise in his throat.

Laying against a tree stump, Logan found he was covered in blood. Dried blood stuck to his skin like leeches all over his body, with some fresh blood coming out of the once stitched bullet wound. He felt something on his face and touched it with his hand, the hand coming back with blood. He could feel a stinging pain on his cheeks and knew that something had clawed at him so hard that they had drawn blood.

But that wasn’t all.

His legs were covered in dirt – likely from skidding – and from the stinging sensation that ran through his leg he knew fresh scratches littered them.

And then there was the weapon.

The sharp blade of the knife was covered in blood, lying right next to where his right hand had lain.

_Shit...Oh shit..._ He knew what would lay ahead and he didn’t want to see it. _But I need to see if my suspicions are true...._

He looked up.

And immediately regretted it.

A bloodied body that was almost unrecognisable through the gore and blood that surrounded the dead man lay on the floor just a couple of feet in front of him. Multiple stab wounds ( _fresh ones_ , he realised. _Less than an hour old._ ) littered his body, ranging from his neck to his thighs – even if the most stab wounds seemed to have been inflicted in the guy’s stomach (perhaps in a fit of rage?). The man’s face was frozen with their eyes wide with shock and fear, their mouth agape in shock.

But this face wasn’t just any man.

It was Dr. Henry. The man that had witnessed his fight with the demon that took his life.

He stared at the body in absolute horror, knowing that even if he had killed many, many people, this was a new form of killing. He’d killed a man that saved lives for a living. What could get any worse than that, even if he had done it unwillingly and without any memory of him doing so?

_Well,_ he answered, _I could have killed my teammates in an account that I thought they were my enemy. I could have run straight into the enemy’s hands and not even realised it. I could have-_ his thoughts were interrupted by a short bark that sounded very close to his position.

But, somehow, the bark sounded like one he remembered.

_Dog. Dog. Dog. Dog. Do-_ He felt a pain start to well up behind his eyes, but he didn’t stop; he knew he was close to another memory. _Dog. Dog. Dog. Dog. D-_ A name popped up, but only the first letter.

_Re...Ri...Ry..._

He heard a shout, one that he made sure he listened in to. “It’s looks like he’s picked up something!” – Logan realised Hesh was the one speaking, to which he gave a glare up into the trees; he didn’t want to deal with the man at the moment, with the reason being the corpse laying in front of him – “Woah! Riley, slow down!” An excited bark rose from the surrounding bushes, but he wasn’t listening.

The name of the dog had made him freeze.

_Riley. Riley the...the..._ He suddenly felt a huge pressure get released from his skull, and he gasped. _Riley the German Shepard!_ The breakthrough swung him into a snapshot of Riley leaping onto a man and tearing his throat out in a desert-y kind of place, badly damaged cars and even a bus covering the rather large area. A lot of what he presumed to be enemies were all around the area too, which was probably why in the moment Riley jumped off of the now dead man, a sniper had gotten a lucky shot in the animal’s leg, causing a yelp to sound from the loyal creature.

The snapshot ended with a yell of worry from someone – a voice he recognised but couldn’t place with anyone he knew at the moment.

He felt dizzy when he came to, and his eyesight blurred as an animal leaped out of the bushes towards him in what seemed to be slow-mo. His eyesight came back in that moment, and he felt his hand instinctively reach for the dagger in an attempt to neutralise the animal, his thoughts jumbled and unorganised from his detour down the twisted and gruesome form of memory lane.

_“Stop!”_ He heard a cry of alarm and he immediately dropped the weapon that had been in his hand for only a moment, following the commanding voice’s orders in such a way that anyone else would have thought he trusted the voice with his life.

And if anyone had been watching, they would have also thought he was crazy.

The animal skidded to a halt right in front of him, sniffing the surely pure scent of blood in the air, before leaning forward and licking his cheek. Logan had long ago frozen at being so close to the animal that he knew could kill him in just a second, but the lick on the cheek had been final in his decision of _what_ the dog was.

_A friend_. Maybe even his _best_ friend, but he doubted it; Riley seemed to be giving him some space, rather than leap and jump all over him like a man’s best friend would do when they’d been gone for a year.

A rustle through the undergrowth in front of Logan startled him out of his thoughts, trying to keep the state of ‘adrenaline rush’ rather than ‘agonising pain’, for the latter would not be pleasant – that he was sure of. 

“Riley! Where did you run off-” There was a pause in both the jogging and the talking to what he presumed was another person with Hesh. “Is that blood?” He must have smelt the air, which even he could smell the overpowering scent of blood, and come to that conclusion; being in the army for a long time has its perks: knowing particular scents and fast reaction speed to threats, just to name a few. “Oh, shit.”

He heard Hesh and his mystery friend speed up along the now short distance between them. Unlike last time, he wasn’t going to hide. He wanted to figure out a few things ( _no, you don’t have the physical capability to move!_ He told himself sternly) and, somehow, the part of his mind that was hidden in shadows didn’t want him to leave. He could feel the pressure of it wanting to stick around, feel the mental pain and vice that would grab him the moment he had the thoughts of the Ghost’s gruesome deaths by his hand, and the ever so stead calmness and sense of belonging when he was with the Ghost squad.

_Why? Just why? Am I meant to be in their team or do I think they’re someone else?_ His mind wandered with possibilities, yet he made it wait for the time being. _Focus. You’re in deep shit right now, so you need to_ focus _._

Logan gave Riley a long look, who was currently sitting down and keeping his amber – almost orange – eyes on him, tongue lolling out like he was excited, but holding back.

_It seems like he knows me. He even seems happy to see me. This makes it plainly obvious that I’m either someone he’s thought is someone else, which isn’t likely considering he’s a dog and smell the scents of other people and basically memories them, that I’m one of his caretakers, or that I’m someone he knows and likes. But...the last two would mean that I was on this side of the war. Unless..._

His thoughts were interrupted yet again when a rustling in the surrounding bushes to the left of him signalled the arrival of Hesh and the mystery man.

Though he wasn’t much of a mystery man....

Hesh came in first, blocking his nose with one hand and a P226 pistol in the other hand, currently out in front of him in a defensive manner. His gaze landed on Riley first, before they went to the dead man with the pool of blood surrounding him. Then his gaze landed on him.

Brown eyes met pine-green, and with a sudden thought Logan grabbed the knife and held it up in the air, making sure the weapon was in their line of sight. 

Logan found the confused and calculating eyes of the person behind Hesh, now knowing that Keegan had been the one with Hesh.

But he wasn’t focusing on him anymore.

He was focusing on the shocked, confused and disbelieving eyes of Hesh.

_Deep shit. Deep shit. Deep shit._ He repeated, knowing that if he said he had no idea what happened, they wouldn’t quite believe him. Even if it was a better truth than telling them he made a split personality to get himself out of the torturous hellhole of The Pit.

That he made himself _schizophrenic_ to avoid the torture Rorke had been giving him. That he made himself an _animal_. That he-

That he made the _real_ Logan Walker get buried deep within himself and threw away the key.

How were they going to believe _that_?

Hesh lowered his weapon, a look of calmness and sympathy locking onto his face. _He must have seen my distress._ The thought came to him naturally, having made himself an emotion reader from all of those times when he had the same ones in The Pit, and right there and then Logan’s gaze hardened and lifted up his free bloodied hand, which had subconsciously gone to block the blood coming out of the ruined stitches.

He showed the hand to them, where Hesh immediately came rushing over to him. “ _Stop_.” The unknown voice startled them all, causing Hesh to stop dead in his tracks and look at him in a confused way.

Logan realised that it was the same voice that he heard cry out to Riley in his snapshot of the desert-y place. _What...?_

The look Hesh and Keegan were giving him were intimidating, yet they both seemed confused. _Why...?_

“ _I’m dangerous. I don’t want to hurt you._ ” The voice was deep and seemed to rumble out of the speaker’s throat. _Who...?_

Hesh shook his head, which seemed to be directed at him. “You won’t, Logan. We’ll be careful.” It then came at him that they were talking to him. _Then that means...._

The voice was his, yet it seemed...different. It was deeper, more profound and most of all, more recognisable to him than the voice he had seemingly adopted in The Pit.

It made him feel like...someone else. Someone he knew, yet didn’t know. Someone he had been with since the beginning, yet someone unrecognisable. 

And that someone was him.

Hesh took a step closer, than another step. Logan held out his bloodied hand again, stopping him in his tracks. “ _Don’t_.” The Ghost’s face suddenly hardened, and he took another step forward, causing Logan to slam the knife into the soft ground, the whole of the knife’s blade getting stuck in the ground. “ _I said DON’T!_ ” He yelled viciously, causing Riley to leap to his paws and Hesh to stop only three feet away, the blade right in front of his left shoe.

The face he was making must have made Hesh realise he couldn’t get close to him like this, because the next thing he did was crouch and stare at him in a kind and understanding way. “Logan, can you tell me what happened here?”

The question startled him, so much that his hand slid away from the handle of his only weapon. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he let Hesh take the weapon away from him, watching him wince at the movement in his left wrist.

“You should get that checked.” He told the Ghost, the viciousness from before still playing at his mind, making his voice still show the two Ghost’s that he was still angry.

He spotted the dodgy bandaging wrapped around a wound around his wrist right before Hesh pulled his sleeve up, covering the bandaging from view.

“Get what checked?” Keegan asked, causing both of them to snap their heads at him. He’d forgotten he was there.

Hesh must have sent some sort of meaningful stare at the Ghost, because Keegan gave the slightest of nods. Before Logan could question Hesh’s odd behaviour, the man’s attention was back on him. “Don’t change the subject.” Hesh said sternly, giving him an annoyed frown like he’d made an inconvenience to what he’d just said. “Now, what happened?”

Logan clenched his jaw and looked away, knowing that if he told the truth they wouldn’t believe him. _Then make a half-truth._ He thought, making a suitable solution. _That’s a good idea. I’ll use it._

He shook his head at Hesh. “I don’t know.” It was very real, that answer. He knew that he had no idea what had happened or how he had gotten there. All he knew was that he ( _no, the animal,_ he told himself) had killed a man that saved lives. “I can’t remember anything, save the time I work up in the bed” – He gave a pointed look to Hesh, who made an embarrassed smile – “And then I woke up out here with a dead man and a very bloody knife and...” 

The unsaid _'I know I killed him'_ hung in the air like a ghost.

He knew he’d gone a bit far with the truth there and knew that now he was sure to tell them he was schizophrenic. _Great job, Logan! You’re going to admit to being a crazy guy! Maybe you’ll get an award; maybe some food? You_ are _pretty hungry._

Maybe he’ll get the truthful award. He was hungry, and he would get called crazy, so maybe he should get the ‘ _honest man’_ award. He might just get a few hundred bucks with it.

“What else?” Hesh’s voice took him out of his thoughts, and he realised that he knew that wasn’t all.

But why would he admit he was crazy? He’d rather...actually, he already admitted he was crazy. Back on the plane when he had a ‘mental breakdown’, as he’d called it. Really, he knew someone inside of him was talking to him when he was troubled and reluctant to talk to them about things, like that time on the plane. Maybe it was the real Logan Walker, because he knew he was just a shell of that personality. He also knew that when he was at his weakest, the animal would come to take him.

_Then what happens when I’m at my strongest?_ The thought started to float around his mind, taking a lot of his attention along with it.

_What happens when I’m at my strongest?_

“Hey, you back to the land of the living yet?” A joke passed through one ear and went straight out the other, but because of that voice he slowly managed to snap out of it, even though that cloud still hung over him, reminding him of the question every few seconds.

His glazed eyes finally focused on Hesh, who had been daring enough to get right to his side, Keegan checking out the dead body and Riley lying down, head between his paws, knowing this wasn’t the right time to greet him.

Hesh gave him a somewhat cheeky yet relieved smile. “There you are. Are you going to answer my question yet?”

_No._ He thought rhetorically, smiling. He could feel the positive aura Hesh had and it was starting to affect him, too. He just couldn’t help but feel like everything was going to be fine.

It was a....weird and unrealistic feeling to him, but it was understandable. He’d been in hell for a year and stuck in somewhere he didn’t want to be for another month. He was allowed to think darkly. He was allowed to think the worst.

But he wasn’t allowed to lose hope. He hadn’t lost that yet, but only because he’d taken matters into his own hands. If he hadn’t had a plan, then he probably would have caved to the darkness long ago. He probably had already caved, but he didn’t let that thought plague him.

Because right now, Hesh was asking him a question with a somewhat fake positivity.

And he wanted to answer it.

“No. That’s all I know.” The lie rolled off his tongue through a month of practice with the Federation, and he thought he’d gotten off the hook.

But Hesh frowned and his positive aura left him, replaced by an almost angry one for only a second before it was covered up and replaced by nothing at all.

_He’s covering up his anger. He wants to keep me calm, so he doesn’t want to trigger my negative emotions yet again. But who’s the anger directed at? Me? Someone else?_

_Rorke?_ He visibly frowned in confusion from that one, yet it made only a tiny bit of sense. _Hesh seems to hate Rorke. But the question is, why? Why does he hate him? Is it personal?_ He shut down his thoughts when Hesh stated to speak.

“You’re lying. What else do you know?” His voice was stern with a hint of anger, so tiny he nearly didn’t catch it.

_Is he angry at me? I can understand it, I just don’t know if he’s ‘in the room’ right now._ Keegan had looked over at the two by now, finished in inspecting the body and had his confused and calculating gaze set on Hesh. _He must have heard the anger in his voice._ He summarised, before he heard another rustle in the bushes, revealing a puffing Merrick.

His eyes swept up the situation in a heartbeat, with the only emotion on his face a frown. The leader of the Ghost’s then walked over to the three of them, unbeknownst to the mix of emotions raging inside of Hesh.

“Ghost’s, we need to get back to base immediately. There’s a problem we need to sort out.” His eyes took in his pained form, seeing the fresh blood. “Call a medical team. They’ll get him in and help him out. After this, we’ll deal with him.” With that Merrick headed back into the trees, trusting the other Ghost’s to do as he said.

The three of them stayed where they were before Keegan stood from his crouching position, walking over to Hesh and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Come on. It must be important it Merrick didn’t call it over the coms.” His voice was soft and understanding, yet it didn’t seem to do the trick.

When Hesh didn’t move after a minute and only stared at him in a mix of frustration and stubbornness, Logan decided to step in. “Go. I’ll be fine here. Call in that team, preferably sooner rather than later. I can barely move.” Despite his position, his voice held enough authority and demanding to be classified as a captain, causing Hesh to give him a reluctant look. “Go!” He shooed him away with his hands, and that seemed to make up the Ghost’s mind. He slowly stood and gave him a nod; he saw the meaning as ‘I’ll be back’ in nodding terms. He nodded back, and that was when Keegan called in the team.

“This is STALKER two-one, requesting an immediate medical team two clicks south-east of HQ, over.” Another voice came over the com, but it was too muffled for him to hear what it was saying. “Ok. Thanks for the assistance, out.” Keegan gave him a confirmed nod. “They’ll be here in five minutes. We’ll wait with you until they get here.”

Logan knew the reason. The Federation were still out and about, and even if it was unlikely they could get through the guarding defences without sounding the alarm, they still wanted to make sure he was safe.

The thought sent him tumbling back down the road of the real question that was on his mind: what side was he on? The Ghost’s seemed to be treating him like an equal, but could it be a set-up to turn the Fed’s weapon against them? The Federation were shit people to hang about with at the start of his torture and all the way to when he got out of The Pit. They let him have his space, and even when he kept on beating them in training he would never get anyone talking to him or even become his friend. Even if it was better than The Pit by far, he still felt like he was in a prison.

And, for that reason, he’d wanted to leave.

He didn’t feel like he belonged there, much less like it there at all. Rorke was still the bastard he thought he was and whenever he ate in the cafeteria and that man was there, he felt like he was being watched. Even when he was in his room, he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that he was still being watched. It would creep him out every day, so it was rare he ever got _just a minute_ for when he felt like he wasn’t getting observed in every room he entered.

It was another reason why he wanted to leave.

But, even if that was another good reason, none could get better and more understanding than this: Rorke. Yep, just a former Ghost. Nothing to be afraid of, right?

Wrong.

The man was a sick bastard. He tortures people without emotion except glee. He laughs when he guns people down with a machine gun. He congratulates only those that die in the service of their country. Really, Logan wouldn’t be surprized if the man killed his own parents.

All he knew was that that was an oxygen thief and he was going to die a slow and painful death when he got to him; just like the bastard did slow and painful torture to him. The fucker deserved all that would come at him, and he intended to kill him, no matter how long it took to find and capture the sick crook.

He would do what he promised long ago.

That thought startled him, but he didn’t question it. If he had promised something like that, then he was glad he did.

Because he kept his promises, and he would kill the man.

Whatever it takes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some more excitement! With more cliffhangers!  
> ...I'm a terrible person.  
> ;)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately we've got the rest of Hesh's memories on Logan's injuries that I'll never remember.  
> ...eh.  
> Another boring chapter...with a bonus at the end. You'll see what i mean.

**_ Chapter 13: _ **

Hesh didn’t like leaving his brother. He was used to him following him around. The year that had passed without him there felt like he was missing something; he always felt that hollow spot in his chest that would always long for Logan to be there.

So, to find him in front of the corpse of one Dr Henry and be holding a knife – _and saying he had no idea about what happened_ – was a bit...shocking. Sure, he’d seen a lot of things in his lifetime. Twisted murder, very drunk and high people, and, his personal favourite, physos (yes, that one was directed at Rorke).

The thought of Rorke sent a thunder of anger storming through him.

 _You bastard, shoving Logan into a storm of feelings that he can’t control. You’ve made him who he is;_ what _he is now. You’ve made him unstable. You’ve made something else that just isn’t my baby brother. You’ve hurt him_ so _much and I just want to...._ He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. _I hate you so much, you fucking bastard. I hate you because you killed my father and made something else in Logan’s place. Because you took his memories away from him and tried to corrupt him; probably because you knew that he would never budge from his beliefs in us with them intact. And because of that, I know I’m going to hurt you. If I can’t do that, then I’m going to kill you. It’s as simple as that._

_Because Logan and I made a promise, and even if he doesn’t remember it, I will make it happen._

Hesh let his thoughts wander for a while as he and Keegan walked, letting the older Ghost stick to his thoughts like he knew he always wanted. _Keegan’s always been a quiet one. Keeps his opinions to himself and only lets them know if he’s right or the plan we had_ (this did happen twice this year) _was too reckless or was bound to get us killed. He’s smart and I know he would work just as well independently as he is in a group. He also rearranged the plan to get Merrick out, where we also found Logan._

The thought of Logan yet again made him think about how the hell he had gotten out here with his injuries.

 _“The Tasers jolts of electricity were mainly based around his neck and chest. This damaged the nerves around those areas and even everywhere else in his body. We believe that is because Walker was soaked in water, so the electric currents spread through his body and down to the ground, rather than straight to the ground. This is probably the key reason as to how he was able to run with your team with multiple fractures and cracks in his ribs, arms and, surprisingly, right foot.”_ He remembered Dr Kay saying those exact words in explaining the almost faded burn marks underneath his jaw and around his Adam's apple. He was also trying to explain how he had been able to run the long distance to the waterfall, where he had been surprised with the revelation with his foot.

Thinking about the doctor made him think back to Logan’s chest area, where the doctor was a little reluctant in talking about.

_“Now, I’ll go onto the chest area.” Even with his childish smirk, Hesh could see underneath the mask. The man was worried. About what, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be left in the dark anymore. So, with a wave to go ahead, Dr Kay continued on, but not before wincing at the report in his hands. “Well, we found multiple cracks in his ribs and, unfortunately, a large piece of bone that had broken off one of his left ribs. Fortunately, the bone had lodged itself somewhere, but not in a great place.” Dr Kay waited a moment, whether to let the information sink in or to be suspensive. He was going for the latter, and that was not a great thing; with how tired he was he was going to snap at anyone who wasted his time. Finally, the doctor continued on. “His left lung. It’s pierced the bottom of it and if we take it out we’ll have to be quick and careful in trying to sew in up. But to do that, we need to wait for the ribs to heal first, or else they could tear up the work and we’d be back at square one. However, if what you say about the breathing problem is true, then we need to sort out how to help his body before we put his body under any more stress. But if Mr. Walker experiences any pain in his lungs, lack of air or we find eternal bleeding, then we’ll need to perform the surgery immediately.” This time, the pause was to ensure the information had sunk in and unlike last time, he was glad for it. It was a lot to take in._

_With no thoughts and questions plaguing his mind, he nodded at Dr Kay to continue. “What, no questions this time?” When the doctor saw his face (consisting of a death glare) Dr Kay shrunk back and vowed not to make any more snarky comments to the tired Ghost; he knew Hesh, as a Ghost, could kill him with one finger_ (heh, I wish I was that good. Maybe if you got Keegan on the case, but me? Nah. I’m not that good).

_This time, seeing Dr Kay in a bit of trouble, Dr White made his presence known with his gravel-like voice. “We believe he is having trouble breathing because of the amount of work his body was in. In its trouble in trying to save the heart and brain from any damage, it seems that the physical and mental stress became too much for his body to handle and close up his throat, resulting in his inability to breathe. If this continues, possible consequences could be passing out, development in panic attacks or diagnosis of an anxiety disorder, or even death.” Dr White let that sink in, where Hesh was currently paling until he looked sick._

What? Logan could die from this? I can’t let that happen, no, no, no – not after we finally got him back. I can’t lose him. I _can’t_ \- _Hesh looked back up at Dr White, letting a question fly from his lips in an attempt to stop the depressing thoughts from showing on his face. “Is there anything we can do to stop it?”_

 _Dr White gave him one of his tiny smiles, which he couldn’t help but feel was rare for the old man. “I was getting to that.” – Hesh felt his mouth turn into a frown._ You didn’t have to say that – _“I would normally recommend a therapist for what you’ve said about him in your report, but because of his unpredictable nature as of late I’d say to leave it be and get him healthy again before we diagnose him with anything.”_

_Hesh nodded in acceptance before asking another question. “Is there anything else I need to be aware of?”_

_Dr Kay nodded, voicing out the ‘yes’ as he buried his head back into the report. “We’ve found multiple burns all over his body, and concluded that, as Walker was a POW for a while, this is the work of a Taser.” Hesh clenched his fists as a surge of anger raced through him, because_ fuck you, Rorke. You’ve killed my dad and sabotaged my brother and hurt him and- _“The Tasers jolts of electricity were mainly based around his neck and chest. This damaged the nerves around those areas and even everywhere else in his body. We believe that is because Walker was soaked in water, so the electric currents spread through his body and down to the ground, rather than straight to the ground.”_ – Soaked in water? You bastards- _“This is probably the key reason as to how he was able to run with your team with multiple fractures and cracks in his ribs, arms and, surprisingly, right foot.”_

Right foot? What the fuck? _His confusion must have showed on his face, because Dr Kay smirked, muttering what he thought to be, “priceless” before explaining. “We suspected it came from the jump off the helicopter, but you say he showed no signs of pain in that particular area. We then suspected that he couldn’t feel it because he was in so much pain everywhere else and it all blended into one, but he still wouldn’t have been able to walk, let alone run. Therefore, we have narrowed it down to something he’s been harnessing for a while. Further research showed that the bone had mended itself, but incorrectly. The way it’s holding now is so secure that it couldn’t have possibly have mended in less than a year.” Dr Kay paused for a moment, letting the information sink in._

But….But doesn’t that mean…. _Hesh didn’t miss a beat, letting his confused and rattled thoughts out into the world. “That can’t be right. Logan would have told me…” He trailed off, earning an unwanted sympathetic look from both Doctors._ No. He wouldn’t have told me. We were still angry and grieving over dad’s death. We both wanted a go at Rorke, but...I never thought he wanted revenge _this_ bad...Logan….why didn’t you say something? Anything? I know you never used to talk much, but….that’s too much.

_“It may not be as far back as you think.” Dr White was talking now, catching Hesh’s distraught attention. “The ‘final battle’ on the Federation was a year and a month ago correct?” At his nod, the older man continued. “The bone was said to have had a healing time of at least a year. It’s possible he got this wound in the events of the attack. Do you know what could have done that?” He let Hesh think over it, who was already flying through possible events until it set on one._

Of course! _It was in that moment that he realised just what event was the most likely, and he couldn’t help but feel like it was obvious._ The train! When it was hit by the missile, we were all knocked around in that confined space. I myself got a fracture or two from that as well. It’s obviously there that he got that wound.

_“The train. We got knocked around a bit when the missile struck. That must be where he got it.” The two doctors nodded, Dr Kay jotting down a few things onto the report._

_He only had to wait a few seconds before Dr Kay started talking again. “This fracture has set incorrectly, but we can’t afford to fix it just yet. We’ll need to fix the other injuries before we start on the minor ones.” Hesh nodded at that, accepting that Logan needed more treatment elsewhere._

_Dr Kay flipped the page on the report, his green eyes scanning the report all the way to the bottom. At the bottom, he nodded and flipped the pages back to the first one, holding the report by his side._

_“Now that the major news is over, we can go over the minor injuries that you need to be aware of.”  Hesh gave a small nod for him to continue, which he did almost immediately. “Firstly, the bruising around his stomach, shoulders or feet are not to be poked for the next few months. We want this healing process to go smoothly, so if we want this to go down as fast as possible then we need to be very careful around him.” Dr Kay stopped for a second, for remembering or for the information to sink in, he wasn’t sure. “Secondly, Walker may be a bit...emotional at this point of time. Due to what you’ve said, we’ve located the source to PTSD, but there may be something else happening to him, so i suggest you let him think for a bit when he wakes up.”_

_“Thirdly, the scars he’s received may go away over time, but it’ll be a long process. There’s also a large probability that by the time he's finished recovering from these injuries that there’ll be more scars over his body, including a few small ones on his face. Please try not to gape at some of his...more gruesome injuries.” Dr Kay didn’t wink or comment this time, knowing that the last sentence wasn’t a joke. “Lastly, his amnesia has been confirmed to be drug induced by some of the leftover contents of his stomach. This means that while he may not remember much now, he’ll grow to remember everything over time.” Dr Kay stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, and, much to his surprize, said something meaningful in every way. “Your brother isn’t a lost cause yet, Hesh. He’ll come to his senses and remember you someday.”_

That was how the conversation had ended. He was still having a head time believing it all, but he’d come to accept the extent of his injuries.

So how could he have travelled _two clicks_ while taking another man with him? It should have been impossible, but Logan had managed it.

 _But how?_ The thought hung over his head like a storm cloud as they walked out of the undergrowth and towards the facility, a black, 4-story modern building with near invisible snipers perched on the roofs and balconies of the building. It was partially concealed in the trees and was well hidden from any enemy air forces. On the balconies, there were installed machine guns for extra defence.

On the ground, there were only a few other people going about, some running into the building and others slowly walking the way they came to breathe in some fresh air. _Maybe that nurse was grabbing supplies to help out Logan._

The thought had come so suddenly that he almost stopped, remembering what had happened only minutes before. _He lied to me. Why did he lie? What’s he hiding behind that pained and distressed mask? What doesn’t he want coming out?_

Hesh made his thoughts slow down, letting the anger _and rage and so much pain_ wash over him; letting the past event turn over in his head. _Logan killed Dr Henry. Logan says he doesn’t know what happened or how he got there. Logan is lying. He knows something he doesn’t want to share with the rest of us. Why? His voice changed. Before it was pained and angry and_ so not Logan, _but this voice was my Logan. Our Logan. The Logan I and the rest of the team know. He never talked much, but when he did they knew it was for important reasons._

_But why lie straight to my face?_

“Hey,” Keegan grabbed his arm, stopping him just before they entered the double doors, staring seriously into his eyes. “Logan’s going to be fine. Right now, Merrick has something for us to look at. If it wasn’t extremely important, then he wouldn’t have called us in. We need to do our jobs right now.” Hesh developed an angry look at that remark. _Seriously? I_ am _doing my job! Looking after my baby brother!_

Keegan must have read his face like a book, because then he was talking again in that understanding voice he used when trying to calm someone down _and it was working_. “I know how hard it is for you to leave your brother. I get it. All you need to do is get through this and you can get back to him, ok?” Hesh nodded mutely, his lips pursing into a thin line; _I don’t want to leave him alone._

Keegan was right, though: he needed to do his job. His _real_ job.

Plus, even though Keegan had misread his emotions back there, he knew that underneath all of that anger, he wanted to see his baby brother and stay by him and _comfort him with sweet nothings that he really does need because he’s so angry and distressed and-_

Keegan smiled, knowing Hesh had somewhat solved his inner conflict with himself. “Good.” There was a short pause in his next words, a twitch in his calm executor that Hesh knew meant he wanted to ask something else that was bugging him but would ask it later. “We should get there quickly now: you know how he gets when we take too long.”

At that, they pushed their way through the double doors of their small HQ.

Hesh took in the familiar room that held one desk for administration, a few chairs against the wall with magazines that no one had touched for at least a month next to them on a small table, and the usual desk lady, Jackie, sitting in her usual seat, typing away furiously at the keyboard lay before her, likely typing something important into her computer. An elevator was to the desk’s right, as well as a stairwell to its left.

She looked up when they entered, a small beep sounding out their arrival. She gave them a smile and nodded at them, waving them off to the elevators. _That’s unusual. She normally checks us out before she lets us in. If Merrick’s told her to let us straight up without checking in, then it must be very important._

Keegan took out his ID card and walked to the elevator, Hesh following suit. They scanned their handprints and keycards before they were able to enter the elevator. Hesh took a look at the usual map of the levels, even though he knew their destination was the fourth.

 **LEVEL 1:** Administration; bunks

 **LEVEL 2:** Infirmary

 **LEVEL 3:** Detention Centre

 **LEVEL 4:** Main BOO **[Base of Operations]** ; armoury

 **ROOF:** Helipad

He touched the button ‘4’ before swiping his key card once again, pocketing it as they started going up.

_Logan...sometimes i wonder what else you’re harbouring in there. The doctors said you had PTSD, but...there’s something else, isn’t there? Is it what caused you to kill Dr Henry, or is it something else?_

Keegan was suddenly grabbing his left arm and, before he could wrench his arm free, pushed his sleeve down, showing the dodgy bandaging and a few burns that expanded outside of the wrapped area.

Keegan gave him the look he gives when he’s pissed at someone who didn’t tell him somethin he should have known. Hesh wrenched his arm free, exclaiming: “What the hell, Keegan!” and pushed the sleeve back over the wound, just managing to hold in the pained expression as his forearm pulsed with a fiery pain at the new attention.

“What the hell yourself, Hesh! Why didn’t you tell me you were injured? This could have gotten infected and killed you! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” Hesh only looked away, shielding his arm away from Keegan’s hands. “Well, I’ll get that later. Can I at least make sure it isn’t bad?”

 _But it_ is _bad, Keegan. I feel it every minute of the day; feel that burning in my arm that brings_ so much pain and…. He was lifting up his arm before he knew it, waiting impatiently for the _so damn slow_ elevator to stop at the _fucking fourth floor_ so he could get this over with _. Please stop in five seconds. Thanks._ He let sarcasm run through his thoughts as Keegan took off the bandages that were sticking to his wound _and fuck it hurts so much why the fuck does it have to do this to me-._ He let out a rush of air as Keegan ripped off the last of the bandages, exclaiming an, “Ow!” as an afterthought.

Keegan only let out a huff, as if saying ‘harden the fuck up’ before he leaned in and examined the wound, taking in the blistering skin and two-inch-long cut that currently had a tiny layer of yellow on and around the edges of the wound. Keegan only let his eyebrows widen as he took in the severity of it before letting his hand go.

There was only one thing he had to say to him: “Fuck, Hesh.” before the doors finally opened and he made sure his wound wasn’t showing as both Ghosts shared a slightly angry glance. _We’ll finish this later._

Then, they walked through the _fucking elevator doors_ and took a left turn.

They’d already been down this path many times in the search for Logan. In fact, they’d been here for about two months searching around this area. They’d often jumped from base to base in the search for his brother, but this had been their longest stay and he wasn’t going to go away until he healed up and calmed down enough for him to _really_ trust them. Until he remembered _him_.

_It’s only a matter of time, Hesh. Just be patient with him._

Hesh took himself out of his depressing thoughts before he could dwell on what the _fuck_ had happened down there again. Instead, he focused on the bland grey walls of the hallway and the bland grey wooden floor and _god everything is so damn grey get a fucking paintjob to make this journey a little more interesting. Please._

Hesh may have been in a bit of a bad mood.

They turned another corner and he nearly slammed into a running woman, laptop and papers in hand. She was lucky enough to twist just enough so they only brushed shoulders, but he still managed to stop and allow himself to yell out a, “Woah!” of alarm. He heard an apology get yelled over the woman's shoulder as her rushed footsteps sounded on the wood panels until he couldn’t hear them anymore.

He finally gave Keegan a glance, who, instead of letting out a chuckle, only had his lips pursed in seriousness. “Looks like this really is serious,” Hesh gave him a look, surprised that he hadn’t believed his own words from earlier. “Come on, we need to get there as soon as possible.”

They picked up their pace a little bit and before they knew it they were taking the last corner and found Merrick standing there, tapping his foot impatiently. When he saw them, he gave off a slightly annoyed look. “Took you guys long enough. Luckily, I don’t have time to be mad at you.” Hesh and Keegan shared a surprised look before they and Merrick were walking towards the door, Merrick briefing them along the way. “We received a message with a video attached barely twenty minutes ago. We haven’t opened it up yet, preferring for all of us to be present before starting this. Our tech team has been trying to crack through the whereabouts of where this was sent from, but so far they’ve got nothing.”

They stopped just outside the door, Merrick’s hand on the doorknob. “When people send stuff to locations such as this, it's like a security risk. It means people know our location and it could be a danger to our lives if the wrong people know about it.” Hesh nodded; he already knew that. “Ok, let’s get this over with.” He opened the door to reveal a large room with desks all over the room, all occupied by the busy and large tech team, except for the middle, which was a pathway to a large TV screen that would soon hold the video’s contents.

A white man wearing the usual captains uniform stood in the middle of the walkway, barking out commands. “Have we got anything? Have you searched for possible names with that email? Come on, guys. We need to get somewhere with this!” His voice was loud and commanding, to which even Hesh was ready to start the search, even if he wasn’t specialised in that area of technology.

Their captain, whom they knew as Captain Tanner, saw them walking towards them, and he, after yelling out an order to keep searching, walked up to them. “Merrick, we have a bit of a situation-” Merrick cut him off, holding up an easing hand.

“I know, captain. I briefed these two on the way in. Is Kick here yet?” In response to that, the door was practically kicked down as a huffing and puffing Kick joined the show, hands on his knees. “Ok. I’ll just get him briefed before we start this.” The captain nodded in agreement, before walking off and began to bark out orders once more.

Keegan nudged him, not allowing him to spiral down into his dark thoughts. “Do you think this is bad?” Right to the point. That’s the Keegan he knew.

Hesh pondered on his answer for a bit, watching Merrick talk in a hushed voice to Kick, who had recovered enough to stand properly, but was still gasping in breaths. “I’m not sure. I know it’s a security risk and all, but they may have just typed in the wrong email address.” _Or, the Feds could be on the other side and tell us they know where we are and will slaughter us all._

Yeah. _Great_ thoughts.

Keegan only nodded in thought, keeping his opinion to himself. _Damn, Keegan. I wanted to hear your thoughts on this._

Kick was suddenly next to him, and he had to stop himself from jumping because...well, _reputation_. “Well, I think this is bad. No one knows our location except our guys, and this is _not_ our guys.” _Well, duh! Why else would we have a whole tech team trying to find information on the emailer?_

He was about to answer when Merrick suddenly yelled out a, “Ready”, before joining their group, all of them having their attention on the screen.

 _Please don’t be bad. Please don’t be bad. Please don't be bad._ He found himself pleading, ignoring the feeling that this wasn’t going to be something they were going to take lightly.

“Put it up!” Tanner commanded, to which he received a, “Yes, Sir!”

Suddenly, the TV turned on and they couldn’t help but stare at the person in the video.

“No _fucking_ way.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely one of my favoured chapters to write, and one to read as well.  
> Focuses on some angst-y thoughts, so...yeah. Have fun, freak-a-zoids.

**_ Chapter 14: _ **

Logan Walker hated confined spaces.

It wasn’t a silly thing to fear, like birds and dogs. He knew that. Confined spaces were allowed to be feared, like heights and drowning were. They were ok. They were good things to fear. If no one had anything to fear, they wouldn’t be human.

But Logan didn’t fear confined spaces. He could manage being stuck in an air vent or tunnel for as long as anyone else. He could manage the pressure of walls being pushed into his skin without any sign of relenting. So, Logan had a reason to say he didn’t fear confined spaces.

It didn’t mean he had to like them, though.

Maybe it was because of his time in the Pit, running his hand around the walls and staring into the sun and drinking in the surrounding vegetation _and silently begging for someone to come find him-_

Maybe it was because of past experiences, feeling his way around darkness of the survival drills his commanding officer would lay out for them _and silently begging for Keegan to come and save him because he was stuck and drowning, drowning, drowning-_

Maybe it was because of the thoughts that would creep up on him, telling him so many different words and phrases and memories he couldn’t remember _and silently begging for anyone to help him because they were killing him and he can’t get away from them and-_

Whatever the case, he knew he hated confined spaces, and that he didn’t take it lightly to be taken straight into a white room with absolutely nothing in it _because that was not his room and he hated confined spaces and his thoughts were going to-_

The pickup team had given him some pain medication and stitched him up. He was only assuming, though; he’d woken up in here feeling drowsy and knew the pain medication and whatever else they’d injected into him was making him feel that way: sleepy, sick, and angry.

The anger was probably by his own accord, though.

He was angry at the Ghosts: _they’d left him alone when he was definitely,_ certainly _, in need of assistance to tell him it wasn’t his fault – that he didn’t mean to kill him._

He was angry at the pickup team: _they put him in a cage that’s so similar to the Pit and he doesn’t need that reminder._

But, most of all, he was angry at himself: _I’ve lost so much control I’m out of my mind in fear and I’m so alone and unstable that I need help I don’t want; I can’t let the devil control me and kill anyone else._

The anger was quickly escalating into rage, and the rage into hate, and the hate into an emotion the other him could feed on.

**_I hate them all so much_ ** _– stop – **they are all a bunch of dicks** – stop – **they are so dead when I get out** – you need to stop – **I’m going to kill every single one of them** – IT’S FEEDING! STOP! _

The moments you realise both you and evil you are arguing: fear and terror; _no one else can die because of you._

He knows why they put him in here: he was dangerous – suspected ( _known_ , he told himself bitterly) to have killed Dr Henry. Though he does hate everyone at the moment, he can’t help but have that tiny part of him that is thankful that they locked him up – _no one will get hurt it I’m locked in here._

Thankful, but hateful at the same time. Something that makes sense, but no sense all at once. _That sounds about right._

If he lingered on the fact that he had killed a man that saved lives for a living, he’d be in denial. He’d killed him, but _hadn’t_ killed him at the same time. _Dark Logan_ had somehow gotten out of the facility with one fighting Dr Henry and killed him – all for one twisted promise. _Normal Logan_ had woken up in the aftermath, reeling in shock and horror at what he (but not him) had done – and lied to the only person he trusted (hated) in this world of deception.

And _normal Logan_ had been forced to take in the face of an angry and unstable Hesh, all because he lied to him about his split personalities. And _normal Logan_ had been dragged out of the forest and treated for the pain _dark Logan_ had inflicted on him _self_. And normal Logan had been forced into this blinding white room with nothing to do and all he could think about was how he was stuck in this confined space that he hated and _hated_ and **_hated_**.

If he thought about why this had happened really hard, he could picture Rorke and the Pit. _They_ were the reasons why he made another personality to get away. _They_ were the reasons why he was suffering from amnesia and this terrible confusion _that should not be his world_. _They_ were the reasons why he hated confined spaces so, so much yet _couldn’t_ be afraid of them.

He really did hate confined spaces _(they did this to you. They made you the way you are. Kill them. Kill them all._ Dark Logan’s thoughts whispered through his mind, yet they didn’t stick like everything else did.)

Recap: he really did hate confined spaces.

_And we’re back to square one._

Logan stared at the camera across the room for a while from his spot against the right-hand corner, furthest from the door, letting a blank face wash over everything because, in truth, he couldn’t feel anything; didn’t _want_ to feel anything.

But, when he was alone with nothing to do but think, he was stuck with the _guilt_ and the _sadness_ and the _anger_ and the _hate_ for the _world_ and for _himself_ and for _Hesh_ and so many other people he had failed and....

_Nothing makes sense anymore._

It was a small realisation that was so significantly smaller than everything else he’d faced that there was no real surprize or emotion to come up with it.

It was a weird feeling. He should have felt at least frustrated or even angry (because, really, everything was making him angry), but, in the complete and honest truth, he couldn’t feel anything at all.  Only a dullness that had somehow become his everything.

That should have been enough to set the alarm bells ringing in that urgent chime. It should have made him realise that he was suffering from so many other things and try to help himself, but he was too caught up in the dullness of his mind to even register the thought (or maybe it was the drugs they had put him on that was making his thoughts fuzz up. _Or maybe they were the ones causing this feeling_ ).

He decides he doesn’t understand it (nor can he think straight enough), so he goes onto something else.

Hesh and Keegan and Merrick and Kick....they weren’t all that bad. He’d realised this when they’d gone out looking for him – _or maybe when Hesh stopped when he asked him to and_ really _listened to him_. The Ghost’s had gone all out in trying to get him away from the Federation; enough to make him feel part of their team. There were faults in this, though. He’d felt like an outsider at times, but it wasn’t like he was _trying_ to make conversation. If anything, he had a right to be pissed off at Hesh because the _fucking_ man _handcuffed_ him to himself.

_Dick._ Logan let the word slip through his thoughts wavelengths, not having enough in him to really put anything behind the word, but enough to make him feel satisfied. _I don’t understand you. You dive in like I’m your last piece of salvation, then back off like a scared puppy. I don’t understand you, Hesh, and that’s what frustrates me the most._

_And,_ he thought briefly, _it’s probably what frustrates you about me the most, too._

He finds himself staring up at the camera across the room once again, letting a tired look dominate his features because _damn_ did he want to sleep.

For once, no arguments flashed through his mind as he lay his head back against the wall and let peace wash over him, letting his last drug-induced thought be about a picture he’d found a while back when everything was clearer: a younger German Shepard, Elias, Hesh and Logan posing happily in their army gear.

_For the US Army._

_(he knew he wouldn’t remember anything about this the next time he woke up)_

/// //// //// //// ///

**_Logan Walker_ **

/// //// //// //// ///

**Time passed: 18 Hours**

Waking up wasn’t hard. He hadn’t had any dreams, so he had woken up to a tried and aching body.

But a very, very active mind.

It was jumping leaps and bounds, trying to fill in the gaps of what he couldn’t remember from the past day. _White room.... woozy thoughts....nothing. Nothing at all._

First, he decided to find out what this ‘white room’ was and if he was still in it.

It took him less than a second to figure out what the answer was.

Figuring out what the woozy thoughts took a lot longer – in fact, most of the woozy thoughts had already been dispelled from his memory.

All that remained was the _anger_ and the _hate_ and the _fear_ directed at _someone_....at _everyone_...at _himself_....

He successfully snapped himself out of the sudden plunge in emotion, trying to get control of himself.

_Three....the nothingness. The nothingness was already solved, though. The nothingness was the woozy thoughts...right? The nothingness could have been anything.... [Sleep? Dark emotions? Memories?]_

_Stop._

He could remember a dark voice. An evil voice. The one he’d all but been trying to stop from taking control.

It couldn’t take control again; it couldn’t kill someone he knew – ( _loved_ , a tiny voice whispered at the back of his mind and left before he could register what it had said).

It couldn’t take control.

Normal Logan didn’t want that. Dark Logan did. Real Logan wanted himself back.

_Nothing makes sense anymore._ He remembered thinking that before, but this time in a different way.

This time, he was referring to his personalities.

Dark Logan was evil. Created in The Pit, _It_ was a monster. All _It_ wanted was to torture those that had harmed _It_ and kill those that had made _It_ annoyed or angry. _It_ would go and stand beside Rorke until _It_ could backstab him. _It_ was a monster. _It_ couldn’t be let out.

He intended to keep it locked up in his mind forever.

Normal Logan was Logan’s dominant personality. Created from amnesia, he was stuck in a dilemma he didn’t understand. He was unsure of who to trust. He was on his own side in this war. Until he regained his memories, he was stuck between The Ghosts and The Federation. Both wanted him on their side. He would have to decide between them.

He intended to keep this at bay for as long as possible. 

Real Logan was good. Stuck deep in their own mind, They knew all of Normal Logan’s answers. They had all of their memories and go to their true side immediately. They wouldn’t be as confused as Normal Logan was. But They were hard to find. They couldn’t get out of the darkness and into the light that would give Normal Logan his memories. They were stuck deep in Normal Logan’s mind, and Normal Logan didn’t know how to lead them towards the light.

He intended to find the key and stick it in the lock as soon as possible.

Really, he intended to find the Real Logan so he would stop being plagued by this confusion and the evil inside of him.

It was a good intension. It meant an end to this nightmare. A nightmare that he couldn’t escape, no matter how hard he tried.

The demon always got its claws on him. Always.

The angel was always too late to save him from the darkness. Always.

The human always succumbed to the darkness, yet always begged for the light. Always.

Always, always, always.

_They_ always failed. _It_ always won. _He_ always died.

It was a merry-go-round; a circuit. They always went to play on it. All three of them. Yet when Real and Dark Logan raced to get to the horse beside Normal Logan’s, Dark Logan always got their first.

And Dark Logan always filled him with its lies before Real Logan could tell him the truth.

Logan shook his head, trying to get all the metaphors and third person views on himself out of it. _This is getting me nowhere. I should focus on my injuries. They’re sore as fuck._

That was true, at least. His stomach was crying in protest, his shoulders were plaguing him with an annoying throb, and his foot was giving off a nicer, duller throb.  

His head had started to throb by now, and he buried his head in his limp hands, feeling weak. _Of course I’m feeling weak. I’m recovering from two bullet wounds, a dislocated shoulder and broken ribs. Who wouldn’t be?_

He stayed like that for a while: his elbows digging into his thighs, leaning forward with his hands over his face. He didn’t look at the camera across the room; he knew for a fact that _they_ were watching him.

He didn’t want to see them, either.

Hesh hadn’t been pleasant the last time they’d seen each other, which had, unfortunately, been when he’d killed Dr Henry. The Ghost had been able to detect his lie and had demanded the truth.

He still hadn’t gotten his answer.

Logan didn’t intend on giving it to him.

If he did, however, how would he start it? He couldn’t just go and say: _“Hey, Hesh. You know how I said I didn’t know what happened? Yeah, well, I’m schizophrenic, so.... yeah. Happy days for me.”_

Yeah, no.

There was no way he could bring it up in a conversation without having to be as blunt and to-the-point as that. There was no way he would say that, either. He’d be sent to a mental hospital, and he was pretty sure he’d kill himself in there.

So, yeah. There was no way in hell he would say anything in less it was absolutely necessary.

No way in hell.

Hesh was a complex character, though. He could be calm and happy one day and be angry and cold the next.

It just made him harder to figure out, even if he’d only known the guy for a few days.

Thinking back on how he’d managed to get out of telling Hesh about his schizophrenia, he realised that they’d left back to their base before Logan did, which Logan knew was significant for Hesh – the man hadn’t wanted to leave his side, so he’d pieced together that much.

The real question was, why? Why did he leave such an impact on the man that it made him reluctant to be taken away from him? Was he important to him? Was he a friend? Teammate? Family?

So many questions, so little answers.

He’d work it all out when Real Logan came out into the light.

Logan felt weariness start to take over him, but he fought it with tooth and nails, unwilling to welcome its embrace just yet.

_I want to figure out what this all means. Hesh being almost protective; me feeling like I belong with them, even though I know I don’t; both of us hating Rorke something fierce._

_Why do we hate him so much? Why is he so protective over me? Why do I feel belonging when I’m with these people? It doesn’t make any sense._

_So many questions, so little answers. Why can’t there be any answers?_

Logan left that thought hanging in its despair, not sure how to answer it.

_Is there even an answer at all?_

Answers. He’d always needed answers. He’d needed them since he’d started losing his memories.

In a way, the answers were his salvation, with his memories deep within the answers. It he got his answers, he could unlock the memories, or vice versa. Either way he’d get his salvation.

_If_ he ever got either option.

In a way, his personalities represented a key emotion or thing he used frequently. He could think of Real Logan having ‘memories’ and ‘hope’ next to the name, with Normal Logan having ‘answerless’ and ‘confusion’ beside his. Dark Logan would have ‘torture’ and ‘rage’ next to his, no doubt.

Really, schizophrenia was a pain in his ass. Different emotions triggered different personalities and different personalities created different actions and different actions created different outcomes. His personalities could trigger different responses to what a person says or does. It could create good and bad outcomes, and really, there would be no good in that.

Because right now, the only person he’d swapped with was Dark Logan, and even if he’d swapped with Real Logan for only a few seconds, it’d only been for the voice and desires he needed at that time. So, it wasn’t really a real swap, it was more of a half-swap, if anything. 

If he ever did swap, though, it wouldn’t have a great outcome. He liked to have control, and if he did then suddenly didn’t...well, things wouldn’t go well.

The whole process came down to one thought that entered Logan’s mind:

_Schizophrenia’s a bitch._

They all agreed.

Really, they wouldn’t agree with anything else, but for the moment, they were in agreeance to at least _something_.

But something gave Logan a feeling that tomorrow wouldn’t be the same.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just trying out a different writing style at the start of this one. Heard it holds suspense and such, so I'm going for it.   
> Strangely enough, i actually remember writing this chapter; we're getting close to where I'm currently up to!  
> Yay or Nay?  
> ;)

**_ Chapter 15: _ **

Shit happens. There’s no way to avoid it. Even as he sits there, suffering, he knows somethings coming. Has had that feeling for the past few hours.

_Shit is going to hit the fan._

Logan Walker knows. He can’t explain it; maybe it’s a sixth sense or just a gut feeling. He simply doesn’t know.

What he does know, however, is that shit will hit the fan.

Soon. Very soon.

His gut has been twisting for the past hour. It’s not pain. He knows that.

His stomach has been tightening for the past two. It’s not pain. He knows that.

His shoulders have been tensing for the past three. It’s not pain. He knows that.

It’s the sixth sense. The gut feeling. The shit-is-going-to-hit-the-fan feeling.

A feeling. That’s all it takes to set him on edge.

Except this edge is sharp. Full of thorns. They’re digging deep, not allowing him to forget their painful presence. Not allowing him to focus on his dangerous thoughts.

Dangerous. They’re too dangerous. Too dangerous to even think about how dangerous they are. 

That, he knows.

He’s been focusing on what could be about to happen. His thoughts keep on coming back to his personality.

The evil one.

The _it_.

It’s coming for him. For them. For anyone standing in its way.

That, he knows.

Unfortunately, he’s the first thing that stands in its way towards its goal.

It’ll conquer him first. While he’s injured. Then it’ll go after the Ghosts.

Then Rorke.

That, he knows.

He doesn’t want that. He wants to figure it out without _it_ tainting his delicate work, like painting a beautiful portrait of art.

He wants to realise who he is. Not let _it_ figure it out. Not before him. He’ll kick himself if that happened.

That, he knows.

Logan Walker has always known, and in this sense of absolute tenseness and paranoia, he realises his mind has finally settled on something.

Well, _two_ parts of his mind.

Real Logan and Normal Logan are in a state of tenseness and paranoia; he wonders if one of the feelings is not his own – that the other Logan’s most dominate feeling has taken over some part of his mind.

Is he delirious?

He’s overthinking. He needs to take a step back – _Logan Walker_ needs to take a step back. _He_ and _them_ create Logan Walker.

He knows that _now_. He knows _it_ doesn’t belong, but _Normal_ Logan doesn’t know that.

They’ve swapped; they’ve separated. _Real_ Logan knows that. _Normal_ Logan refuses to believe it.

He wants to see Hesh. Before he’s locked away again. In his mind; in a pit – they were the same thing. Locked up and packed away like an important package.

No, he didn’t want to be locked away again.

But he would. Just like he had been for the past – how long had it been again? A month? A year? A few weeks? _Days_?

He’s overthinking again. Take a step back. _Logan Walker_ needs to take a step back.

They’ve swapped again. _Normal_ Logan knows that. _Real_ Logan refuses to acknowledge it.

Dark Logan wants a turn. He’s rising. They both feel it.

Both don’t want it.

They try to push it back down, but even with their combined strength they cannot compete with its mental power.

Maybe they failed because their minds weren’t in agreement like before. Maybe not.

How could they know? Now, they were both stuck in their own mind _(is it minds?_ We _are_ different personalities in the one body. Does that mean ‘mind’? _But doesn’t it mean ‘minds’? **Shut up!** )._

Now, Dark Logan – _it_ – was on the loose.

_(And they couldn’t do anything about it)._

/// //// //// //// ///

**_David “Hesh” Walker_ **

/// //// //// //// ///

**Time Passed (since last encounter): 28 Hours**

Hesh wasn’t the type to get confused often. In fact, he was never one to debate on calling the rest of the team about something that confused about. Especially when he’s wondering what the _fuck_ he’s seeing here, because he’s seen plenty of weird shit. But here he was, his phone gripped so tightly his fist was going white _(am I going to crush it?)_ , actually debating on calling Merrick to get the team down here, because this shit was too weird.

No, weird wasn’t the right word.

Insane. This shit was _insane_. Unreal.

He’d been watching the camera for around a day now, and nothing had happened. It was one of the reasons why he was actually debating whether or not he was imagining this or if it was all a dream. A very twisted dream.

He pinched himself. _Nope. Still here._ The stinging pain annoyed him; he shouldn’t have done it so hard.

_That’s beside the point._ Hesh tried to get back on track. He even rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands to make sure this was real, that he wasn’t getting tricked by his own twisted imagination.

_Nothing’s_ changed. _Logan is still rampaging through the room like a madman._

At least that was true. Logan, who had been sitting against that same wall ever since he had woken up – who had been calm, cooperative, and even composed – had gone berserk.

He was shouting and failing his arms about now, walking around the empty room and... _did he just slam his fist into the wall?_

Hesh rubbed his eyes again, but nothing changed. Logan was still pacing the room, and the hole in the left wall was still gapping at him, as if he’d been the one to punch it.

_He shouldn’t be able to walk with those wounds._ All sense of logic seemed to vanish right there and then, because unless all his nerves had been severed in the past thirty seconds, then his brother shouldn’t be up and walking about like he was as good as gold.

His memory flashed back to when Logan had been painfully lying against the tree next to Doctor Henry’s corpse, and to when Logan had told him he’d been hurting him back when they’d been running towards the waterfall. He, right there and then, ultimately decided that it wasn’t possible.

Logic was fucking up.

His phone flew up to his face, and he immediately tapped onto Merrick’s phone number, swiping the call button.

One ring was all it took.

_“Hesh? What’s up?” Of course_ he was awake at this time of night; Hesh shouldn’t have let himself be surprized.

But the shock of his brother’s crazed state had rattled him – so much that he couldn’t focus on anything but the camera his eyes were glued to.

Hesh didn’t notice he’d been out of it until Merrick’s voice came back over the phone. _“Hesh? You there?”_ His voice was worried; he had a right to be.

Hesh knew that he’d never – if only for a few days after his father had died and Logan had been MIA/POW – failed to respond when on the phone. He’d hadn’t let it affect him for a long time, so for him to be so troubled over the phone – hell, he called Merrick _himself_ – that he didn’t respond, then it was bad.

Especially since they’d just managed to find the man they’d been searching everywhere for – keeping in mind that they’d been searching for around a _year_.

_“Hesh.”_ Merrick seemed to be able to hear his heavy breathing over the phone, and his tone demanded that he answered.

If only to tell him what was wrong.

Hesh’s throat clogged up then, unwilling to let him speak. Logan was supposed to be fine. He was supposed to know who he was. He was supposed to know he was on their side.

But he wasn’t fine. He didn’t know who he was. And he didn’t know what side he was on.

Nothing was going the way it should be.

_“Hesh!”_ Merrick’s voice yelled into the phone, and Hesh winced, because _damn_ did that hurt his ears.

But he was out of the depression. Out of the hurt. Out of the coldness of the steel wall that had been pressing around him. Out of the lack of air that had been making it hard to breathe.

He could breathe now.

He could feel warmth now.

He was ok now _(could he really believe that?)_.

“Merrick.” Hesh blandly stated, like he’d only just realised he was on the phone.

_“Hesh, what’s wrong?”_ Hesh could sense the ‘you never do that’ on the other end of the line, but ignored it.

Merrick needed an answer.

“It’s... It’s Logan. He’s....” That was all Merrick needed, and Hesh was glad because his throat had closed up and he _couldn’t breathe anymore and the walls were back and closing in on him and-_

  _“I’ll be right there,”_ Merrick reassured him in that voice that just demanded he listened to him. _“Stay right where you are. We’re coming.”_

_‘We’re coming’._ Even as Merrick hung up Hesh could still hear the words coming out of his mouth.

It was reassuring.

But then he was staring back at the camera, where Logan was digging his hands into the hole he’d made and ripping away other parts of the wooden plaster, making an even bigger hole.

That was a bit creepy, but tolerable. It was what his brother did next that set him off like a ticking time bomb.

Logan stopped and turned around, and Hesh felt a shiver run up his spine, _because his Logan – his baby brother – shouldn’t be this twisted and hurt and-_. His face was twisted into a crazed grin and his normally suspicious brown eyes had a mad and gleeful look to them, making Hesh’s skin crawl.

It was like he knew he was watching him.

It reminded him of the Joker from Batman, a movie he hadn’t watched in over ten years.

It was so significant to him. The relevance was startling.  

Hesh could only watch in horror as his brother turned back to his mess, ripping the wall apart as this...this _thing_ he had never seen before. 

His limbs had gone cold, now, so cold and they felt so, _so_ heavy...

He couldn’t move his arms. He felt his phone slip from his weak grasp and fall to the floor. He couldn’t think about worrying about whether he’d cracked the screen or not.

He had bigger problems to worry about.

The walls were back. The steel wall was freezing as it touched his back, seeping through the thick fabric of his army jacket like it was nothing. He could feel the panic as he realised they were closing in around him, and suddenly he was pressed against it in this _dark_ and _cold_ place and he wished with all his might that he could be safe again.

Safety was a luxury in these dark times.

The walls were pressing hard against all areas of his body. He couldn’t breathe. Panic was setting in. There was a tightness in his chest. It was hurting him.

He needed to breathe. _Had_ to.

His throat had closed up again. Breathing wasn’t a luxury, anymore.

It was a battle.

And he was losing.

He felt dizziness start to envelop his being, and if he wasn’t in darkness then he would have noticed the black spots dancing in his vision. He knew he had to breathe. He couldn’t lose. If he did, he would die.

He was losing. He fought, but he always lost.

But then there were hands on his back. Warmth flowed through his back. It didn’t really help. It only increased the coldness. But it was enough.

The walls moved away, if only a tiny bit. The coldness remained, though better than before. His panic lessened. His throat opened up. He was breathing again. Quick, shaky breaths.

He just needed to breathe.

Voices started to buzz around him, and ever so slowly he felt the darkness lift. He felt his erratic breathing start to slow. He felt the coldness start to convert into warmth. He felt his heart slow and along with it the panic that had been the cause of this terrible experience.

“Slow, deep breaths. That’s it. Keep it up.” It was the calming voice of Keegan that he first heard when he came to, on his knees with his hands laying in front of him, his forehead pressing against the floor.

The sniper was probably the one rubbing circles into his back, too.

A painful headache had started to form by now. Tears of stress and the need to breathe had long since fallen down his face, further adding to the small headache at the lack of water in his body.

He ignored it.

Instead, he decided to let them know he was back now, but he wasn’t willing to get up yet. He just needed to breathe for a bit.

With that in mind, Hesh slowly lifting his hands and placing them in his hair, helping his lungs get the maximum amount of air they needed in each gasp, all the while telling the Ghosts what he wanted.

_‘I’m ok. Just need a breather.’_

“Deep breaths. Deep breaths.” Keegan continued on his repetitive words anyway, more than likely trying to sooth him to keep him from going back into the darkness again.

Though Hesh wouldn’t admit this to anyone but Keegan himself, it actually helped.

A lot.

Slowly regaining every part of his mentally drained mind, Hesh managed to – _finally_ – push himself into a sitting position, leaning against the desk he’d been seated at for...how long had It been? An hour? Thirty minutes? _Ten_?

Hesh shooed away the thoughts, deciding to socialise with his team, knowing they were worried about him by the way they were seated around the room. Merrick was seated in the chair by the door, having a clear view of the whole room and an easy look into the corridor to stop people if anyone decided to come this way. Kick, being the cheeky bugger he was, was seated in his chair, twirling around on it like he was a little kid. Keegan was still beside him, but he was looking right at him, not even bothering to mask his concern, knowing Hesh would see right through it.

And he was right about that.

Hesh knew a lot of ways to know when someone was hiding something. He knew Kick was trying to distract himself from the trouble at hand, all the while trying to make his fellow occupants laugh. He knew Merrick was trying to keep an eye on him, but trying to keep up his leadership role by not allowing anyone else into the small room. By doing this leadership role, he was also distracting himself from the problem at hand, too, he was just hiding it a lot better than the others.

He also knew that Logan would have fretted over him like-

_Oh god._ Logan _._ He was the cause of whatever the hell he’d just been through. He needed to know if he’d calmed down, if he’d-

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy, tiger,” Keegan cautioned, his hands pushing him lightly back onto the floor from when he’d tried to get up. “Take it easy. You just had a panic attack.”

Hesh blinked, letting his team’s medic push him back down, knowing he’d find out what he wanted soon enough. _What? Panic attack? I... I’ve never had one of those before..._

With a certainty that he couldn’t really fathom, he knew he never wanted to have another one of those again.

They weren’t pleasant. At all.

Merrick stood slowly from where he sat, stretching. Hesh heard the crack from dormant bones and muscles, and it again reminded him of that question: how long had he been sitting there, waiting for Hesh to compose himself?

_How long?_

“How-” His voice was hoarse and raspy, and he found that he couldn’t speak without liquid in his suddenly dry mouth. Kick had stopped spinning around when he’d heard Hesh try to speak, and with a tiny speechless conversation, Kick stood up and walked out the door.

Hesh didn’t need to ponder on that one: he was getting him water.

Kick could sit in his seat without a bomb going off, now.

Keegan seemed to get what he had been trying to ask, because he was answering his question a few seconds after Kick left. “Just over half-an-hour. Merrick’s been sitting there for a bit longer than that and Kick only entered the room fifteen minutes ago. You needed some time to calm down.”

Hesh was happy with that answer. Though he felt bad about making his badass friends wait, he knew that if he hadn’t composed himself before coming back then he would have gone straight back into that hole.

And he really, _really_ didn’t want that.

Merrick was by his side in two long strides and crouching beside him in a second flat, opposite to Keegan. “How are you feeling?”

That was the question. How was he feeling? Better? Worse? The same? None of those?

“Shit.” That was the strangled word that he supplied, and it earned a smile from the rest of his comrades.

He was back.

“Listen, when Kick’s back with the water, we want to know what happened. You haven’t done that in a while, so...it’s important.” Hesh nodded, even if he wanted to get away from everyone here.

And see Logan.

Hesh started forward at that, but Merrick and Keegan’s hands pushed him back down. “Hey, hold on. Let your body recover.” Keegan almost, _almost_ snapped. Hesh only knew that because of that angry undertone that always made him shiver.

“But-” Hesh tried to protest, but his voice lost its way halfway through the word, cutting him off.

Keegan gave him a look, not letting him go just yet. “Just _wait_.” The words were strained and toned, and Hesh found himself not wanting to mess with an angry Keegan.

Because an angry Keegan meant there was _hell_ to pay.

They sat in silence for what seemed like hours, but only a few minutes before Kick came back with a plastic cup full of water. When Keegan gave him a look, Kick shrugged, simply stating: “What? The elevator was full and every tank I went to had lost all their plastic cups!”

When offered the water, because they knew Hesh wouldn’t let anyone help him drink it, he skulled it down. It made him feel better hydrated wise, but worse headache wise.

After finishing the water, he rolled his tongue over his now wet mouth, glad it was back. Just to make sure, he said a few syllables. Finding the words flowing out of his mouth like normal, Merrick started the questions.

“What caused you to panic over the phone?” The Ghosts were all crouching around him now, and the question only reminded him of his brother.

_Logan. Logan. Logan._ Hesh lurched forward once again, and once again he was shoved back down, not as gently as before.

“Hesh, _quit_ _it_.” Keegan growled, and Hesh couldn’t help but shrink as his nostrils flared like a charging bull.

Merrick was confused. His next question proved that. “What’s so important that you have to get up now?” 

Hesh could only think of Logan. Logan, his baby brother. Logan, his hurt brother.

Logan, his _insane_ brother.

“Hesh.” Merrick pulled him out of that hole again, and it saved him from having to face that _dark_ and _cold_ place again.

This time, Hesh made sure to answer. “Logan-” Hesh felt his voice crack, and he composed himself before continuing. “He was...something else.”

All three Ghosts eyes went up in confusion, and he didn’t blame them.

He wouldn’t make sense of it, either.

“What?” Kick asked, letting his confusion sink into the words.

“He was...He was...” He needed to see him, know that he wasn’t still twisted, berserk, _insane_. “I need to see him. I need to-” He’d tried to push up against the hands still holding him in place, but it was no use. With his exhausted form, he wouldn’t be going anywhere from this position if they could help it.

“Hesh, stop. You can see him later, he’s-” Keegan tried to say, but if only got cut off, because _no, they couldn’t keep him away from his brother like this._

He tried again, but once again got nowhere. “You don’t understand! I have to see him!” He cried, feeing his chest start to tighten.

The panic was setting it.

“Well you won’t let us understand!” Keegan roared, and that caused everyone to stop what they were doing. The last time Keegan had blown up was when Logan had nearly killed Hesh, and even then, it wasn’t _this_ bad.

The last time he had blown up at someone before they found Logan was around the time the said person was taken, and before that was when Hesh had Logan had been on the train, calling the team with the significant words: “When I say Checkmate, you blow up this train!”

It was only after, when Merrick and Hesh had some time alone, that he’d found out about Keegan’s screams of rage and defiance at Merrick himself.

Before that, however, it was after Elias had died.

The Walker family must be a significant mark to him.

On the bright side, though, it let us know when Keegan was on the edge of his coping capabilities.

“...Keegan?” Merrick asked slowly, taking his hands off of Hesh’s shoulders.

Keegan’s angry eyes snapped shut, and when they opened they were guilty and full of frustration. “Sorry, it’s just the pressure from the last few days. I’ll be fine.” His voice was lower than before, but none of the Ghosts questioned it.

Sometimes, people just needed to let it all out. Even the dangerous members of the elite STALKERS squad.

The outburst managed to snap Hesh out of his own bubble, though. He realised that they needed to know, and he needed to stop stumbling over his shock and get over it.

_Because, harden the fuck up, me._

“Keegan’s right,” Hesh stated, and his friends turned and stared at him, eyes raised in slight surprize. “You don’t understand.” He took a deep breath, trying to get it out. “He...Logan...Err...” He shook his head and bit his lip, anger shining in his eyes. He’d say it. Right here, right now. “Logan...”

_Just say it!_

“Logan went berserk.”

The words caused the Ghosts eyes to lift up in confusion. “What? What do you-”

“I mean exactly what I said, Kick.” Hesh cut him off, feeling a huge weight lift off his shoulders. “Logan went crazy. That’s why I wanted to get up. I needed to see if he was better.”

A thick silence settled over the group, and Kick even whistled. Hesh settled for playing around with the plastic cup in his hands, having completely forgotten he’d been holding it, twirling it around in his fingers. Keegan just looked anywhere but him and Merrick stared straight at Hesh, a disbelieving look covering his features.

_Why does Logan have to be the one to suffer? He’s always been the loyal one. Always been the one to try harder. He’s always tried to impress me, and he doesn’t even have to try. He’s always made me laugh, but...what happened to my baby brother? What happened to my amazing baby brother? The person who would follow me everywhere? The one that would always have my back?_ Hesh let his head hang, letting out a pained sigh. _Why does Logan have to suffer? He was the innocent one. Why did you have to taint it, Rorke? Why?_ The thought made his gaze harden in anger as it sent a blaze of rage through him, _because_ Rorke _caused all this._

_You’re going to die. You are going to die and we are going to be the ones to do it. Me and Logan. Even if we have to face the world to do it. We made a promise, and we_ always _keep our promises._

_You are going to die soon, you bastard. Soon...so_ very _soon...._

“Hesh, tell me more. What did he do?” Merrick asked, and Hesh was snapped out of his dark thoughts.

“Err...” He was still trying to get rid of that rage that had built up inside of him, but everything he tried wasn’t working, so he just winged it. “He ripped a hole in the wall and gave me a crazed smile. The smile was what set me off.” Against all odds, he’s managed to hold down his rage and hatred for the bastard that had destroyed his family.

It was a small victory, and he relished it. Victories were hard to come by when it had something to do with Rorke’s meddling.

Merrick nodded thoughtfully, taking in the information with incredible calculation. “What was he doing before he...went berserk?” The word choice was what made Hesh smile; Merrick never quoted someone unless he was out of words to use, and even then, he almost never did that.

It was another sign that logic was fucked up.

“Just sitting in the corner. I’m not sure if he was in pain of not, but he kept on twitching and shifting. It was a bit...unnerving.” Hesh shuddered; he remembered watching this happen and felt the same way his past self had – sick.

Merrick nodded again, his calculating gaze making Hesh wonder what he was piecing together.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because the next thing he knew Merrick was up and holding out a hand for him. “Well, let’s take a look.”

Hesh took the outstretched hand, and as he was pulled to his feet he felt a little dizzy.

“Whoa.” He muttered, trying to get sense of the spinning world. He suddenly felt the warm grip of a hand clutch onto his arm and steer him into what looked like a chair in this spinning world.

As soon as he sat down, he slouched down pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, trying to stop the spinning. When he lifted his palms from his eyes, the world was only spinning a lot quicker than before, making his headache worsen. “This is _not_ fun.” He simply stated, groaning as his head pounded, a lot worse than when he’d been sitting down.

“Suck it up. You wanted to get up. This is what I warned you about.” He could sense the smirk in Keegan’s words, and he couldn’t help but smirk himself.

“Yeah? Well I’m a stubborn shit, just like you say every day.” Hesh reasoned playfully, wincing as another pound racked his brain.

“Well, that _is_ what you are.” Keegan stated like it was the easiest thing to believe in the world.

Hesh let out a laugh, cutting it short with a groan.

“Oh, shut up, you sook.”

Hesh’s vision slowly stopped spinning, and with it his headache lowered back into a dull ache that just annoyed him. Its annoyance didn’t matter, though.

He was in front of the camera screen, and Logan was seen laying in the corner again, clutching his head like a vice.

It’s what he’d been doing before he went berserk, anyway.

The hole had worsened, too. It took up almost half the wall, which was not great. It meant getting builders in to replace this, and those builders could tell the Federation where they are, and if that happened then the Federation could come and take Logan away from them and that _couldn’t_ happen.

Not after this long searching for him.

He could just imagine Logan laughing at him if he’d said it out loud; if his brother had been _himself. “So, no builders?”_

It made a sad, tiny smile form on his lips.

Kick was the first to comment, staring at the footage over Hesh’s shoulder. “You weren’t kidding when you said he’d ripped a hole in the wall. _Shit_.” He was shaking his head in disbelief, and Hesh couldn’t help but smirk at the admiration in his voice.

Keegan thought otherwise. “You shouldn’t be happy about this. It means his mental state is far worse than we thought.” His voice was grave, and Hesh felt a deeper sadness wallow in the pit of his stomach.

He hated the thought of his brother suffering in there with a shattered mind – and it only made him angry at the thought that that _was_ what they were already doing.

“I’m not so sure.” Merrick’s words startled them; _what else could it be?_ “We may be on the wrong path about this.” He turned to Hesh. “Was he acting calm before he destroyed the wall?”

Hesh didn’t even need to think about it. “Yeah. He was completely calm. He seemed to be struggling with something, though, like now. But...once he got up, it was like he was a completely different person.”

Merrick gave him a look, and it took him a moment to realise what he’s just said. _‘It was like he was a completely different person...’_

Hesh stared at Merrick in shock, because everything was starting to make sense. The different voices, killing Dr Henry, his reactions...

_‘I don’t want to hurt you!’_

“You don’t mean...”

Merrick stared grimly at Hesh, hating the most reasonable answer. “It’s likely, with his odd behaviour.”

Kick, being confused about what was happening, butt in then, hating being left out of important conversations. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there! What are you two on about?” Keegan was giving them the same confused look.

He didn’t blame him. Keegan didn’t think of options like these in situations like this.

Merrick gave them his grim look, his eyes pained. “We think we know what his mental state is.”

Kick couldn’t hold in his response. “Well? What is it?”

“We think he has-” Hesh cut Merrick off, because he needed to be the one to say it.

He needed to except that logic hadn’t fucked up.

He needed to except that Logan wasn’t really Logan.

He needed to except that life was about to get a heck-of-a-lot harder. 

“Schizophrenia. We think Logan has schizophrenia.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Finally, some good stuff.  
> The questioning finally begins, with a bit of angst and a touch of mystery towards the end.  
> Hope you all enjoy!

**_ Chapter 16: _ **

They’d come to pick him up.

Instead of the usual soldier and nurse giving him treatment, _(and a glare; that soldier is a stone-faced dick. He won’t even talk to me! It’s insulting!)_ he found Merrick and Keegan standing at the door, Keegan leaning against the frame and Merrick leaning against the wall to the right of the doorway, their arms crossed.

A single nod was all Logan needed to know they wanted him to get up, but that was the thing.

He didn’t want to.

He knew it wasn’t up to him. These guys had locked him in this shitty room for god knows how long and even after he came back from Dark Logan’s rage they left him to suffer.

If that didn’t kill him, then the shitty smell from the shitty hole in the wall was going to if he didn’t get out of here soon. _(No, seriously. I swear I saw something move in that hole. I’ve been staring in there ever since. Really!)_

Those were the reasons why he wanted to get out of here ( _here meaning the whole facility. Yes, I haven’t quit just yet_ ).

These were the reasons why he didn’t want to leave this room:

_Dark Logan will pop out and kill my only link to the past; I_ know _they were part of it!_

There’s also this:

_I can’t allow them to think they’ve beaten me! I need to stay strong; defiance will be step one in that plan._

And this:

_The Ghosts are making my will crumble. I don’t want this feeling of belonging to stay with me. I want it to leave. They are not my friends._

_And_ this ( _How long IS this list?_ ):

_I can’t let them get killed. Hesh is....is...._

Memory aborted.

_This is starting to piss me off. Greatly._ Logan let his face go blank, because this really was starting to annoy him. _Fuck you, memories!_

By this time, Merrick had waited long enough. “Come on, Logan. We need to talk to you.” His expression was something akin to tiredness, but his voice barely showed it.

_Hasn’t he slept? If not, then is he hiding it?_ Logan mentally sighed. _Off topic. Go back to the_ actual _topic._

“Nah,” His voice was more rough and casual then he’d been expecting, causing him to pause. “I’m fine right where I am.”

Defiance. It was one of the actions that made him feel more in control than he really was.

It made him feel better about himself. Just this once.

Merrick rubbed his eyes in annoyance, while Keegan just gave him an unreadable look. They weren’t the reactions Logan had been expecting, because he figured they _wouldn’t_ be expecting it.

And that was when the suspicion crept up on him.

“Fine,” Merrick answered, and that made Logan’s own unreadable expression turn into a frown. “We’ll come to you, then.”

The frown didn’t leave his face as he watched the two Ghosts enter the room, followed by Hesh and Kick, who had been hiding around the corner, carrying four plastic, school-styled ( _uncomfortable_ ) chairs.

Logan decided he’d rather stay where he was, in the corner of a half-destroyed room.

Hesh refused to look at him ( _hurtful!_ ), while Kick kept on looking at a spot above his forehead. Keegan and Merrick went on with staring at him like he was the dick in the room (which, judging by what’d conspired just a minute ago, _wasn’t_ incorrect).

It was rather...odd, for lack of a better word. Not Merrick and Keegan (they were justified), but Kick and Hesh.

Kick was rather transfixed on that point just above his head, but Logan got the feeling he was digging holes into his forehead with his peripheral vision.

Kick usually fills the room with his buzzing, everything’s-not-going-to-hell attitude. In short, he had a fun, yet able-to-be-serious attitude. But, today, his expression was strained and so _not_ fun, and the seriousness he was emitting was drowning out another feeling he didn’t want Logan knowing.

His suspicion was rising.  

Hesh just wouldn’t look at him. It made him wonder if he was ashamed of something, because he was the Ghost who would _always_ be the one to help him; comfort him; dismiss his actions for mistakes. Always. If Hesh _was_ being himself right now, he’d have had his eyes on him the whole time coming into his prison and given him a small nod to assure him everything would be alright. And, now that he’s thinking about it, he would have replaced Keegan or Merrick at the door, if not _both_ of them.

That sealed the deal.

Something was wrong.

His suspicion was reaching its peaking point.

He didn’t bother hiding it, either, because he’s had enough of keeping his emotions to himself. Waiting for the right moment to ask something important.

Because he knows that if he keeps the emotions locked inside for much longer, he’s going to explode.

He sees Merrick and Keegan acknowledge his expression. And ignore it. Apparently, what he’s feeling isn’t too important.

_‘Wait your turn!’_ they say _. ‘I’ve waited a million_ fucking _years! It_ is _my turn!’_ He yells back.

The ball continues to bounce across the battlefield, glares being sent between the three of them now that Logan has unleashed his own. 

A _battlefield_. What a metaphor.

While the competition – who can stand the onslaught of death glares the longest? – goes on, the elite STALKERS squad set down their chairs in a semi-circle around Logan ( _what is up with their trend of surrounding me every_ fucking _time?_ ) and wait.

Wait for what? He had no idea.

The waiting game goes on, and Keegan and Merrick are still the only looking directly at him. One minute. Two. Three.

Five particularly boring minutes later (who _isn’t_ bored when trying to glare someone to submission for over a minute?), Merrick looks down, away from his deadly eyes.

_One down, one to go._ He almost grins, but then Merrick says the one thing that made him freeze and look straight into his eyes.

But not in a glare, and _definitely_ not a panicked look. Yeah. Definitely not.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were schizophrenic?” The words were small, almost shamed, like he was sad.

But why would he be sad?

And Logan just stares. The games had long ago ended. His throat was clogging up, and when he tried to speak nothing came out.

_How did they figure it out?_ Is all he can think, because it should have been impossible. They _couldn’t_ have found out. They just...It’s just... _impossible_.

But it was happening right in front of him. This wasn’t a dream. He knew that; pinching himself only gave him a stinging reminder of that very fact.

This wasn’t a dream. This was _real_.

Horror started to set deep in his bones, and he had no idea why this was the reaction he was getting. Was it one of the others? Was Real Logan terrified at the prospect that they knew? Or was Dark Logan fearful that they could get rid of him?

The thought stirred something in his stomach; his head. Hope was something so hard to come by, but he pushed the feeling down.

Because hope is weakness. And weakness gave _it_ a chance to escape.

His face was a white sheet by now, and when Merrick started to talk it was like it was all underwater. A murmur he couldn’t understand.

It was the horror. The horror was drowning out the panic.

They knew he was crazy. They would kick him out. They would hate him.

But that was all he wanted right now. A chance to escape the fight.

So why were these thoughts the most crippling of them all?

And then there was a certainty. A sudden sureness that he couldn’t fight.

_Deny it. Don’t let them know. It will protect you._

He liked the sounds of that.

He laughed with fake disbelief, startling the Ghost squad enough so Merrick shut up and Hesh actually _looked_ at him.

The triumph was almost enough to knock the confused mask he’d put up, but he held on by sheer fear and willpower.

His skills as a liar were exceptional, after all.

“Schizophrenia? What the fuck is that?” The confused tone of his voice was exemplary, and he couldn’t help but feel pride on the firm act he was playing.

_You’re doing good. Keep it up. If you don’t, then you’re gone._

_Gone._ The word left a bitter – and quite panicked – taste in his mouth. He didn’t want to be _gone_.

_So, try_ harder _!_

That thought set him back on course, and it made him realise what a gamble he’d just taken. He could have been a junkie on big words. Knowledge could have been his way of power.

But the chances were slim. People who join the army are generally more focused on trying to kill their enemies than sitting back and talking politics and using the ‘big’ words.

Yeah. Slim chances.

Keegan narrowed his eyes at him while the rest of the Ghost squad just stared at him, unable to hide their startled expressions (or, on Keegan’s behalf, distrust).

It wasn’t a surprize that the medic was the one to answer him. “Schizophrenia is when you have other voices in your head that can make you do...things. The voices start out as something small with small requests, then they get increasingly worse until they are a danger to everyone around you,” Keegan let the information sink in, and those few seconds were quite long for Logan ( _what. The._ FUCK _?_ ). “We believe you have this, considering how you acted yesterday.”

There was silence for a long time after that. Logan was inwardly screaming ( _what the fuck? How can they get_ worse _-_ ) and the Ghosts were just waiting for his reaction.

A slow process.

_They can’t get worse. They can’t. They_ can’t _!_

It was then that his face started to show his denial; his panic.

He couldn’t hold it all in anymore. His fear of getting kicked out. His denial to see the truth.

His anger.

“No,” he cried, suddenly finding himself standing and yelling and angry and so, so _angry_ \- “I’m not schizophrenic. I’m not!”

The Ghost squad were standing too, talking and trying to calm him down but he couldn’t hear them because of the roar in his ears and- “ ** _I’M NOT SCHIZOPHRENIC_**!” He roared, if only to hear himself, and everything was suddenly quiet.

His ears weren’t feeling like they were going to bleed. He wasn’t panicking anymore. In fact, he didn’t feel anything. He wasn’t angry or scared or felt like he was drowning in his own distraught mind. No. There wasn’t anything here. 

Just a white landscape. And he was feeling so tired...

Logan snapped open his eyes. _A white landscape?_ He paled, if it was even possible. _No. No, no, no, no, no! Got to get back._ Must _get back!_

It _can’t kill them before I have my answers!_

His determination was over the roof, and that must have been what had done it, because he was suddenly snapped back into reality, leaning against the wall, holding his head in a hand.

The overwhelming feelings had passed. The pressured feeling was gone, but he knew it would be back soon.

Way too soon.

His head was pounding now, and his exhaustion was starting to get the best of him, so he let himself look as weak as he felt.

It was now that he realised the panicked feeling was gone. It was replaced by a nothingness he couldn’t describe. He just felt...empty.

_Was it one of_ them _?_ That was his immediate thought, but then he found that it didn’t matter. What did was how long he’d been gone for. That was important.

Very important.

Logan looked up, through his fingers, and was relieved to find all four Ghosts exactly where he’d left them.

_Only a few seconds, then. That’s a first._

“There’s no need to be afraid of it, you know.” Hesh’s small voice was what brought him back to what was happening in this chaotic, half-destroyed room. “We can help you fix it.”

_‘We can help you fix it.’ Oh, how much I want that. Yet, how much I’ve tried to fix it myself. Is it really possible to get rid of it?_ God, he hoped so.

“I’m not afraid,” a lie. A big one. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.” He’s not denying it, but he’s not saying he has it, either.

But who knows what they saw in those few seconds. He may have said something bad, or tried to kill one of them.

_Probably not the latter,_ Logan mused. _Or I’d be on the floor._

There was silence for a while, and that was the worst part for Logan. This time, it felt suffocating. He could feel their eyes on him, trapping him in the corner when all he wanted to do was run out the door, away from his problems.

Cowardly, but, as he’d said before, Logan _did_ hate confined spaces.

“How long have you known?” Keegan asked, and Logan almost missed it.

The flood of feelings had unleashed its destruction on him.

They knew. They _knew_. _I’m done. Gone._

Gone. Perhaps that’s what triggered the overwhelming sadness and panic and fear that almost made him cry.

_No, no, no. Answer the question. They’re looking at you funny. You know that, right?_

No, he hadn’t known that.

And, unfortunately, tears were building up behind his eyes.

But he would answer. He would answer because they knew.

So, he would answer. Then he would ask.

“A-a while,” His voice cracked, and he felt one stray tear roll down his face, much to his annoyance. “W-what did you-u....did y-you s-see?”

Tears were rolling down his face now, and he felt his annoyance turn into anger in a flash. This was not how it was supposed to go. They weren’t supposed to have found out. He was supposed to put up a tough act. He shouldn’t have confirmed it.

There were so many things wrong here that it made his stomach churn. Everything was so _wrong_.

That only made him shed more tears.

“Oh, nothing weird or out of the ordinary. We definitely didn’t see slow change in eye colour or hear what you said. Because you just had to not remember anything.” Kick’s sarcasm fluttered into the room, but even that wasn’t enough to lift the tension off of everyone in the room.

“Kick!” Merrick yelled, and it took Logan a moment to realise that they hadn’t been going to say anything.

Logan’s anger bubbled up to the surface, even if the confusion he was feeling was enough to stop him from lashing out.

But the anger was enough to stop the tears and help him settle down. He covered everything up. The anxiety and sadness and everything else was sent into the deep end and his mask came back.

Even with his slightly red face and shiny tear lines, Logan felt better now he wasn’t spilling everything all over the floor.

He let the anger stay, though.

Because that was the one feeling he couldn’t push down.

“What do you mean? What did you see?” Stutters gone, he felt a lot stronger. The anger in his voice was apparent, and the change in him must have startled the other Ghosts from their game of ‘let’s glare at Kick’, because suddenly they were all staring at him and no one was giving him an answer and his anger was skyrocketing and...

And it wanted to get out.

“ ** _GUYS_**!” Still in control. He was still here. It had control for only a second. Only one. “Answer me!”

The startling change of voice must have been an indicator to start talking, because suddenly Hesh was blabbering out to not lose control and Kick was being sarcastic and Keegan was telling Kick to shut his trap and Merrick...

“Guys! Hold it together!” Merrick yelled, where he managed to get an immediate reaction from Keegan, who stopped talking. “I will kick you all out of the room if you don’t shut your mouths!”

That was the reaction he wanted. Everyone looking at him, under his control.

It reminded Logan of what _it_ wanted.

Power and complete control.

“Logan,” Merrick finally addressed him, and Logan couldn’t help but feel calmer now he was finally being answered. “You don’t...remember? Anything?”

The annoyance was back.

_Another._ Fucking _. Question._

The anger was back.

_Keep it in, keep it in..._

“What do you think I’ve been trying to tell you? No! I never remember the periods where I’m thrown back into a blank mind with another person trying to reach me but really not succeeding.” Logan yelled, and it took him a moment to regret what he said.

Because, shit, that piece of information will be great to add to their piles of other sticky notes.

“Another? How many can you hear?” Keegan jumped in this time, and Logan almost growled in his annoyance.

_Can I get my question answered?_

“Does it matter?” Logan snapped, but, finding Keegan and Merrick’s eyebrows raised at him, sighed in defeat. “I usually hear the one. I know there’s another, though. There’s been a bit of a divide recently. One on one side, one on the other, and me in no man’s land. It’s quite nice, being in the crossfire of a mind battle, wouldn’t you say?” Sarcasm bled through his words, but Logan had had enough.

_Get to my fucking question._

And he was about to say so when Kick beat him to the chase (or, more likely, _kicked_ him off the trail).

“From the tiny amount of information I know about schizophrenia, people like to call their voices names. Do you name yours?” Kick said it in a small voice, which said it all for Logan.

He was aware that he wanted a question answered.

And, he felt a little calmer.

Kick, at least, hadn’t forgotten. So, he’d answer him.

“Err...yeah. Yeah, I do,” Logan mused for a moment, before heading forward with his plan. “Now, can someone _please_ answer my question? It’s getting quite frustrating.” That was better. Nice and calm.

Much better. He was in a lot more control now. He could feel it.

And, surprisingly enough, it was Hesh who answered.

“You snarled, first. Then you studied us. Kick stated there was a slow change in eye colour, but that was just for _kicks_ ,” Kick smirked, looking ready to say something at the rare pun, before Keegan nudged him and, overall, kept the jokester quiet. “After that, you said ‘soon’ before you came back. That voice, though...it was like a growl, but...Jesus, I can’t even think of the word.”

That didn’t matter, though. He’d gotten all the information he needed.

_Soon...I wonder what he meant._

**_You’ll find out_ soon _enough._**

And by god did Logan jump out of his skin. He ended up slamming his head back into the wall, and he groaned at the fire that raced up his side.

He’d almost forgotten about the painkillers he’d soon need, considering how wounds were finally starting to act up again.

Yay _. Fun times are approaching._

“Who was that?” God damn was Hesh catching on, because Logan doubted he would be this far in without losing track of what the fuck was going on with him.

“ _It_.” Logan growled, because _fuck_ , he didn’t want it to take control again.

Never again, if he was being honest with himself.

“What?” The question was outdated.

He’d answer, anyway.

“One of the voices. I call the darker one ‘it’ when I want to be frank and call it a monster, because monsters don’t deserve names. I call it ‘Dark Logan’ when I’m being formal, which is never, or when I’m delirious and freaking out.”

Unlike what he had been expecting, no one laughed at the name. Not one of them. It confused him for a while, before he realised just why that was.

Their serious and grim expressions confirmed it.

“It killed Henry, didn’t it? And you didn’t want to tell me you had schizophrenia so you lied. You said you didn’t remember anything, either,” Hesh brushed a hand through his hair, realisation dawning on him. “My god, that makes so much more sense now.”  

Hesh was on the right track. That pleased Logan. He was starting to understand.

But Keegan’s expression was troubling him.

_Why would Keegan be confused?_

He didn’t have to wait long to get his answer.

“Schizophrenia isn’t mind control. They give you suggestions, tell you want they want. They don’t assume control of a person. They’re just voices,” Keegan stated, and Logan couldn’t help but feel his blood run cold. _Wasn’t schizophrenia split personalities? Wasn’t it a form of mind control?_ “If Logan remembered what had happened, schizophrenia would make perfect sense. But he doesn’t.” Keegan shook his head, while Logan’s stomach tightened. “This could be far worse than we thought.”

And Logan felt like throwing up. Hands shaking, head pounding, and heart throbbing, Logan felt like throwing up.

Because, damn, he had schizophrenia. He already knew that.

But now he was being told that schizophrenia shouldn’t be like what he’d been experiencing. It should only be voices. Demanding voices, at times. But now...Christ, now he’s been told that something else is wrong with him.

And, really, it shouldn’t have shocked him as much as it did. He’d already pieced it all together, but hadn’t set the right condition.

Damn, was he a fool.

But he’d face it head on. He knew what he had. Keegan was piecing it together. Why not add another mental problem to the list?

“Yeah...yeah...” Logan struggled to catch a breath, and when he did, all eyes were on him. He wanted that. He needed it, in fact. It’d help with the strain. His pride would make him talk.

Hopefully.

“What, Logan?” Merrick asked, and it was funny to Logan. The STALKER’s leader had no idea that another bomb was about to go off. Sure, he could have sensed that something important was going to be said, but not something this big.

But then again, they should have realised this as soon as he had. Said the right condition.

He didn’t even know the proper name for it, either. Did he need to, though? All he needed to know was what it meant and he’d be good to go.

Kegan would know, though. He was the team’s medic.

But not yet. He’d drag it out. If only because he couldn’t quite get enough air into his lungs to formulate any words.

He’d try, though. Now that they knew, he’d try to tell them.

Because now he could get help.

And he didn’t want to be _gone_.

Logan was about to answer when Keegan stole his light when realisation dawned on him. “You already knew.”

And, yes. God damn was Keegan right. He’d known for a while. Just the wrong condition.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” Logan stated slowly, hanging his head.

They’d know soon. Very soon.

He waited for a bit, watching Keegan frown at him.

_Wait your turn,_ Logan thought, satisfaction flaring. _I had to wait mine. Be patient._  

And he did wait. He would have waited longer if it wasn’t that serious.

And, if Keegan’s impatience hadn’t made him speak up first, then Logan would have said it right then.

“Well? What is it?” The annoyance was clear in Keegan’s voice, and while Logan was asking why he was taking that long, he couldn’t help but feel a small smile creep up his face.

And then it turned into a laugh.

_Why?_

That was the question.

“What?”  This time, the Ghost squad were all frowning, and while Keegan was the one that was speaking, Logan knew that was all on the tip of their tongues. “What’s so funny?”

The answer to that was funny.

Because, well, everything was funny.

All of this. This whole god damn _situation_ was funny.

Because it was so, _so_ wrong.

Wrong. _Ha_. Even that word was funny.

And Logan started laughing again.

“What?” Keegan yelled, and, only after Merrick and the others told him to shut up (quite quickly, might he add) did Merrick look pointedly at Logan.

And, there and then, Logan finally started to calm down.

“So? What is it?” Logan didn’t know if Keegan was referring to the question or his laughing, but it didn’t matter.

He’d answer both... _after_ he got a point.

“You’re funny when you’re in the dark.” The reaction was great, too, because Keegan only glowered at him.

But the rest of the team only stared at him, gobsmacked.

Logan didn’t pay it any mind.

For, if he was telling himself the truth, he was a bit...tipsy.

On what...well, that was another question.

Emotions tend to pile up and can lead to strange reactions.

Especially for Logan (multiple personalities aren’t always a great thing, especially if you’re slightly losing control without even realising it).

“But, hey. That’s not bad,” Logan went on, still smiling. “If anything, it’s great.”

And he would have gone on, if the connection to someone he knew but really didn’t hadn’t shattered.

Logan frowned.

_What am I doing?_

Looking up at the Ghost squad, he could see their shocked faces. He couldn’t blame them, either.

Because he remembered exactly what he’d done.

And he was slightly worried by what he had just experienced.

“What the...” Logan muttered, before snapping his mouth shut. He wanted to process this.

Alone.

“Multiple personalities. I have a total of three, including myself,” Logan stated seriously, watching as the four Ghosts shared a shocked and confused glance. “Now please, get out. I have some thinking to do.”

There was no point in lying to them. He needed to think about what the hell had just happened.

It felt like...it felt like he was _whole_ again.

But how could that be possible when he had remembered every second of it? When he was still in control?

When Dark Logan was still in the forefront of his mind, prowling like a hungry lion.

A _very_ hungry lion.

“But Logan-” Hesh argued ( _talking? Wow. Who let the dogs out?_ ) before Logan cut him off.

“Hesh,” He firmly stated the name, and he was surprized when the man in question actually looked up and listened to him. “Please.”

Apparently, that was all he needed to say, because they were up and packing in the span of five seconds.

It seemed, from the lack of protest, that the rest of the Ghost squad seemed to be thinking the same thing as him.

_Process the information._ Or, in his case, _process what the fuck just happened._

He had a right to think about it, after all.

They were all at the door now, and it took a moment to realise Hesh was staring at Logan as Merrick placed a firm hand on the Ghost’s shoulder.

“If...If you need anything, just say so,” Hesh hesitated at the door, turning his head away from him as he said his next few words. “We’ll always be here to help you.”

And, with a shut of the door and a click to signify it locking ( _bastards_ ), Logan was left to his thoughts once again.

And, this time, he’d need to think long and hard about what he’d just witnessed.

Because, in all sense of logic, what had just happened was impossible.

God damn impossible.

Because he’d just merged with his cloaked personality.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaannnddd we're up to date! Only halfway through chapter 18, so bare with me.  
>  Here we are, with some plotting, strange memories, and happy and sad moments.   
> ...And maybe some heart-to-hearts.  
> Let me tell you, this chapter will end with a bang!

**_ Chapter 17: _ **

_Logan was fighting for his life._

_The dark water was swirling around him in a frenzy of air bubbles, his chest burning. He could see the light above, teasing him, along with the wreckage of what looked to be a train cart to watch out for. He was trying to make for the doorway, where the light was beckoning him._

_But it wasn’t that easy._

_He was holding onto someone, trying to save their life, but it was only a hindrance to his own survival._

_Logan wanted to let go of the person and swim to shore with a certain chance of surviving._

_The man here did not._

_So, Logan was forced to carry an extra weight and swim to the ever-distant surface._

_He could see the silhouette of the man in his left eye, but it was dark and shadowed, hiding his face from Logan._

_The frustration was immense, and that’s what he used to give his energy some life, because he was exhausted._

_Had been since he’d dropped in here._

_He swam forward, kicking with all his might with only the use of one arm to help, and while Logan panicked, the unknown man continued to offer support, lifting Logan’s already dwindling strength and pushing him onward._

_Pushing through the doorway, Logan saw the light a little way ahead. Pushing forward, Logan finally couldn’t hold his breath any longer. In a burst of air bubbles, Logan opened his mouth, swallowing a huge lungful of water._

_He wanted to stop there and then. But the man urged him onward, reminding him of why he was swimming to the surface in the first place._

_But why did ‘save your brother’ do the trick?_

_He couldn’t think about that. He had to save him. Had to save both of them._

_Logan pushed onward._

_His heartbeat was pounding in his head by now. The strain on his lungs felt like they were a pipe about to burst, and he wasn’t wrong._

_In these situations, he was rarely ever wrong._

_The breath he’d been holding in –_ no, the mystery man. He’s the one controlling this _dream – rocketed out of his mouth in a frenzy of bubbles, urging him to move faster._

Save your brother.

_Logan swam faster than he’d ever swam before._

_Darkness crowded into his vision –_ it was so, so dark. I can’t _see_ _anything – and Logan suddenly realised the most important fact he’d almost missed at that last, crucial second._

_The water was right above him._

_But he didn’t greedily burst his head through the water to take in some must needed air. No, there was someone he had in his arms that was much more important than his survival._

Save your brother. 

_He shoved him into the wonderful, blessed air a metre above him._

_And, as the darkness almost sucked him into unconsciousness, Logan burst his head above the water._

_Sunlight burned his eyes._

_And Logan breathed in a choked gasp of air._

///

**Time Passed: One Week**

** Ready **

Logan supposed dreaming like this wasn’t normal. He’d had the same dream for four days now.

It was troubling, to say the least.

More than one problem to it was he’d always wake up gasping for breath, choking on air like he’d been drowning.

The nurse – they weren’t giving the name badges anymore. Was it because of what _it_ did? - had come in more than once to help him through his panicked state.

Another problem was the Ghosts knowing about it. The nurse had informed them, and in turn they’d come up and ask him what was up and if he was ok.

Logan didn’t think they were only talking about the dreams – _nightmares? Memories?_ – though.

Another thing troubling him was that he hadn’t seen Hesh since the confrontation.

He’d tried to ask the Ghost’s about it, but he hadn’t been getting too far into that matter.

_[Keegan ignored the question. He’s been looking a bit angry and stressed lately. Is he angry at Hesh, or is something else bothering him?_

_Through the almost unsocial visits and his constant deep thinking_ (troubled, much?) _, I’ve come to suspect that he’s withdrawn himself from everyone – or, maybe, it’s just me – because of how troubled he is._

_Whatever the case, something is clearly troubling him._

_Kick usually brushes the question off, saying he has a lot of work to do and that he ‘hasn’t been feeling very well’. The first point is bullshit, because I know Hesh wouldn’t not check in on me. The second point_ (which I’ve made a note that he’s only said it once) _could be a vague truth. Is Hesh sick or something?_

_Kick’s also been a bit bouncy lately. And I mean bouncy. He fidgets whenever he comes in, almost like he’s restless to get out of my prison. Am I that much of a bummer, or is something important going on?_

_To top it off, as much as he’s been trying to cover it up with his usual easy-going attitude, the usual ‘joker’ in his eyes had faded into a steeliness that I almost mistook for anger and worry – just like Keegan’s been emitting._

_They were the ones who spiked my never-ending suspicion._

_Merrick looked down when I asked him about Hesh. In the end, he said Hesh was going through a rough patch and would be out soon. He told me I’d also see him soon, too, but that bit seemed a bit...strained._

_Perhaps my paranoia was getting the best of me. I don’t know. But, right now, I had to trust my own judgement._

_There was also another thing I couldn’t make sense of._

_Merrick didn’t come in here to get answers. That much was clear when he came in here yesterday and just leant up against the wall for a good half an hour before walking out again. Of course, I did try to figure out what he was doing, but I gave up trying after the first three tries ended up in utter failure._

_I’m pretty sure he was tense when he came in here, and when he came out, he looked a lot more relaxed._

_Is this just a quiet place, or is it me?_

_I don’t know anymore. There are so many different reactions going around that it’s getting hard to figure out how I’ve suddenly gone off question one and into another one entirely._

_What is going on around here? And why does it seem like_ I’m _the problem?]_

He wants to know what’s got them so stressed and worried that they are starting to look a little like mentally damaged, angry, and exhausted Logan.

It was...troubling, to say the least.

Another troubling fact was that since the merge, everything seemed to be... _clearer_. The dense fog had lifted and, now that it had, some memories were resurfacing.

A lot was still shrouded in darkness, though, but Logan found he liked it that way.

He didn’t want to think, anymore. He wanted to find the one person his mind was trying to reach – like a thirst he’d never be able to quench.

And maybe, the way to fix it was by finding Hesh, because he couldn’t wait any longer – the thirst was _killing_ him. There was so much shit going on in his head that he didn’t understand and he needed a break from it.

So, maybe finding Hesh would take his mind off of it all.

But, to find Hesh, he had to get out of this still messed up room.

And maybe he had a plan to do just that.

///

_It wasn’t that he wasn’t sad that his dad had just died._

_His brother had been holed up in his private quarters (_ room, he guessed _) for over a day. He was probably crying. Grieving, without having to hold it in for everyone else – he didn’t want to set Logan off._

_But even if he thought Logan was a ticking time bomb, he wasn’t correct._

_Logan knew he should feel sad. Beyond sad, even; Elias had raised them on his own since their mother had died._

_He was the only family they’d ever had – ever really_ known _._

_But Logan wasn’t feeling any of it._

_Sure, the guilt was cutting deep and the rage was burning brighter than ever, but sadness wasn’t something he’d experienced yet._

_If he was being honest, he felt empty._

_Empty in a way that while the guilt was eating him alive and the rage was still a raging fire in his stomach, none of the emotions he wanted to feel –_ desperately _needed to feel, because he knew something was wrong with him – weren’t coming to haunt him._

_Maybe that was why he started racing into missions without a second thought._

_Maybe that was why the rest of the team, while baring their own sins, were giving him odd looks – scared looks, he supposed; was it how he looked or the non-existent reaction he was having – every time they saw him._

_He didn’t question why, though._

_Because, later, when he looked in the mirror, all he saw was that rage burning everything it touched._

_And maybe, just maybe, that was because all he could do was think about sticking a knife in that sick bastard that used to be his father’s best friend._

_(Later, he promised Hesh that they would get their revenge)._

///

** Set **

Logan knew how bad this was going to be if he got caught.

Well, he thought he did.

He was guessing ( _well, hoping was more like it_ ) that they would yell at him and send him back, but then again, these were soldiers fighting against a vastly escalating threat. If he found something out that he wasn’t supposed to, then he might be killed.

_Let’s not think about that,_ Logan thought. _If I do end up getting caught, I’ll just say that I wanted to see Hesh and talk to him. No big deal._

That last thought was bullshit and he knew it.

There was always the option of asking the Ghosts to let him see him. Maybe even let him out, if he wanted to be honest, but he knew that, with the revelation of just how fragile his mental state was, his chances were near to none.

**_You could always kill the next guy that comes in. Then take his keys and gun and kill the Ghosts._** Dark Logan whispered, and Normal Logan rolled his eyes.

Logan had found that the more of these cursed dreams he had, the more powerful he felt. Dark Logan had become a whisper now, and while Logan knew he was recuperating from its failed attempts of taking him over in his sleep.

The only reason why he knew it wasn’t rampaging was because, instead of silence, he’d only get tormented from the dark force, and that wasn’t its style. If it did kill someone, he’d hear from it in a twisted, riddled way. But lately, it’s been saying how it would kill someone soon and a strange ‘curse you, you devil’.

Not sure why that is right now, but Logan’s promised he’d figure it out right after this. 

There’s also been a strange, inaudible whispering in the back of his head. He hasn’t been able to communicate with them, but he keeps on hearing the word ‘family’ over and over again.

Logan isn’t sure why either, but he plans to figure that out later, too.

“That’s a shit idea and you know it. I need answers, and they happen to be the ones who have them. Plus, I’m still injured. It’s not fully healed yet, and even if it were, I don’t think I’d be able to beat a guy who’s much stronger than I am.” Logan didn’t feel a need to hide it anymore. If they knew, then they knew. So, to make it easier for both him and them, he’d talk to the voice whenever he heard it so they wouldn’t have to ask all the time.

He hoped to stop doing that soon. Right now, that was the path he was taking. Soon, however he was going to drop it.

But there was something else that was bothering him. Logan wasn’t acting the way he should be, and it scared him. The dreams he’d been having felt so real that he could only describe them as memories, and these _memories_ hadn’t made much sense.

Other than saving someone from drowning, there were more memories he didn’t understand, along with another memory that had been plaguing him.

But he couldn’t remember much.

All he could remember was a bright light. That, and something burning (collapsing?).

And so much _noise_.

But that could wait.

For right now, he had to get ready.

All he needed was something sharp.

Looking back at the hole that he had been avoiding ever since _it_ created it, Logan sighed.

_Time to do the dirty work._

///

_Logan tried not to think about the past._

_It would only remind him that he was losing his mind. Literally._

_He was fading fast. The Logan he knew – was, for most of his life – was getting buried, along with the memories of a time of happiness, grief, anger, and, most of all, war._

_...And family._

_He didn’t want to remember that he was forgetting who he was. It scared him more than anything. Rorke had told him that the food they gave him would have different effects than it did on the Ghost Killer._

_Rorke told him it’d allow him to see the truth._

_Logan realised it’d make him forget everything that defined him and twist him into something like Rorke – a monster._

_He didn’t want that._

_So, he gripped the memory that would keep him from flipping. He held on with_ everything _he had._

_Because, if he let go, that would be the end of Sgt Logan Walker, part of the elite STALKER squad._

_He’d become Logan Walker, Ghost Killer and part of the Federation Army._

_Second-hand man to Rorke._

_(He’d let himself lose his mind, but he wasn’t going to let Rorke claim him. Not in a million years.)_

///

** Go **

The security camera was watching him.

Logan planned on that.

He’d been a fool to think he could get out of this _fucking white room_ and find something small and sharp enough to penetrate the lock and get the _fucking door_ open.

He _had_ found something sharp, though.

A plank of wood he’d had to snap off of the wall plaster.

Of course, by then he knew he couldn’t just walk back into his prison and expect to keep the lousy weapon. They’d take it off him.

Not before he sent his message, though.

Now, sitting against the wall with his arm-long plank lying in his lap, Logan stared up at the camera, a blank look on his face.

He was talking to _it_.

**_Writing ‘Hesh’ on the wall isn’t going to bring him to you, you know. Even if it does, it’s not like he’s going to get close to you. You’re a monster._** It taunted him, and Logan snorted.

“You’re the monster,” he muttered, closing his eyes. He was getting angry. “Don’t twist your words. It’s not going to work.”

**_You responded, didn’t you? That means you’re bothered._** It stopped there, and Logan didn’t respond.

He didn’t have to. Plus, it was just trying to get a rise – that, and try to get the power to take him back.

Not that he was going to let that happen.

A few more moments of silence – no thoughts, either, just staring at the white wall with his blank look – before it decided that’d be enough of that.

**_We both want the same thing, you know. To kill Rorke. We both what to kill that sick bastard. He killed our dad. In fact, we can do it together. We’re the same person, you and I. We will-_ **

“We are _not_ the same! Don’t ever say that!” Logan growled angrily, his hand coming up to press on his head, which had started to pound. “Don’t _ever_ compare me to you.”

Then, in the worse possible moment ( _fuck,_ he was angry), the door clicked open.

And in slid Hesh.

With a folder and laptop in his hands.

Wearing a long-sleeved army jacket (it _was_ the beginning of winter), and dirty army track pants, Hesh looked like he’d been wearing the same clothes for at least a few days.

Logan didn’t blame him; he’d been wearing his since he’d been put in this room, despite being given more sets of clothes multiple times already (no way was he going to get undressed in front of a camera! They were dreaming if they thought he’d do something as humiliating as that!).

His brown eyes surveyed the scratched wall for a few moments, before closing the door behind him, eyes landing on a slightly unstable Logan and the potential weapon in his lap.

“Logan....” The warning was clear in his voice, but all Logan could feel was the anger draining out of him, replaced with a calmness he hadn’t felt all week.

“Yeah,” Logan had to work hard not to make his voice crack. “Here.” Logan slid the weapon against the ground, stopping right in front of Hesh.

The Ghost kicked the stick behind him, and, after surveying Logan, sat in front of him, placing the folder and laptop on the ground beside him.

Then they stared at each other for a while.

Logan felt satisfied that it had been wrong. Hesh looked like he was worried (maybe he was aware Logan was teetering on the edge of his other killer personality).

They both lost their patience at the same time.

“Why did you-”

“Where have you-”

They both stopped, before Logan smirked, gesturing at Hesh. “You first.”

Hesh smiled, but that quickly washed away into the serious and worried expression he’d worn when he came in. “I hear you’ve been asking for me, but I didn’t think you’d take it _this_ seriously.” He gestured to the wall behind Logan, and Logan could only smirk.

“Well, you didn’t give me much choice,” Logan stated half-heartedly, before letting the smirk fall. “Where have you been, anyway?”

Hesh started tapping his fingers against his leg, before looking back at the camera. Turning back to Logan, Hesh shrugged. “That’s confidential,” Hesh leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his gaze. “But, hey, all I did was take some valued advice.” Back to the camera, Hesh pushed his jacket’s sleeve up his right arm, revealing a now proper covering of bandages, making Logan smile in relief.

_He finally got it fixed!_ “Well, that explains things,” he muttered, before his gaze caught the laptop and folder beside Hesh, giving the said man a confused look. “What’s with the goodies?” 

Hesh smirked at him. “ _’Goodies_?’”

Logan smiled sheepishly in response, scratching the back of his neck. “Umm...yeah?”

They stared at each other for a second, before laughter erupted in the room.

And Logan felt the world turn – spinning into a dark scene where the rocks and sand were scraping against his ripped shirt and a man, face blurred in the darkness, reached for him in desperation, blood slowly pooling around him.  

_“LOGAN!”_

The cry pierced his ears – loud enough to make him yelp and fling himself backwards, head bashing into the wall behind him.

He let out a curse, a hand flinging back to cradle his now pounding head, breathing fast.

_What the hell..._ Logan didn’t have time to continue, because he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Logan looked up into Hesh’s now worried gaze, all signs of laughter gone. “Are you ok?”

Out of reflex, Logan answered. “Fine.”

Hesh let out a breath – probably a sigh of relief, considering the change in face – and started talking again. “I’d ask what that was, but I don’t have time.” _That’s strange_ , Logan thought. Hesh usually made sure he was ok, and even then, he wouldn’t let it go _that_ easily.

_Brotherly._ A voice suggested.

Logan dismissed the thought as soon as it came, instead deciding to think about _why_ time was an issue. “Why? I thought we had all the time in the....” Logan felt a possible reason float up to his head, and he frowned. “...World.” He looked up at Hesh, realisation dawning on him. “The Federation.”

Hesh nodded, a grin smile spreading across his face. “Yeah. They sent us some video clips two days after we got you back.”

_‘After we got you back.’_ A slip in words, yes, but it was one that completely changed his mindset.

One that gave him a worse headache than before.

The Ghost must have seen his discomfort, because he placed a hand on his shoulder, his worried face back on in an instant. “You right?”

_You just said..._ Logan almost, _almost_ , said just that. But he refrained himself; he’d ask later, when Hesh’s news had been delivered. Instead, he went with his catchphrase: “I’m fine.”

Hesh didn’t look convinced, but Logan didn’t care.

He was _finally_ getting some _valuable_ information.

The Ghost seemed to realise he didn’t have time to make sure he was ok – whatever the reason that was ( _was he needed somewhere else?_ ) – because he was talking a second later, rubbing his sleeved arms to rid himself of the cold he was feeling. “You know when Merrick said he needed me and Keegan to come with him, after you’d...”

Yeah, Logan knew.

“After I killed Dr Henry.” Logan felt a shiver go up his spine, the room’s temperature dropping down what seemed like ten degrees.

**_Hmm...I thought you said_ I _killed him._** It wasn’t cold in the room, Logan realised.

_It_ was back.

Logan fists curled in on themselves, anger pooling in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t answer, though.

There was nothing to say.

Hesh saw his sudden anger, and quickly responded to it. “Hey, it’s not your fault. Like you said: it was the other you.” The Ghost seemed to think he was angry at himself, and even if that wasn’t _exactly_ the problem – how could he call that monster _him_? – Logan felt himself calming in an instant.

Even wrong, Hesh had settled the anger.

And he’d put the demon to sleep.

Logan let out a shaky breath, nodding at Hesh. “I know.”

Hesh nodded back, smiling. “Good. Sometimes, people need to know when something isn’t their fault. It can...” The Ghost looked down, deep in thought. “Save your life.”

Logan let out a single nod, pursing his lips. _Back to business._ “What happened next?”

Hesh looked up at him, frowning. “Rorke happened.”

It was a simple statement, but one that shook Logan to his bone.

That man had killed his _father_.

And someone else’s.

Hesh didn’t stop, though. He continued; for some reason, time was of the essence. “I’ve got something to show you,” Hesh picked up the computer and opened it, pressing the spacebar multiple times, before cursing. “...But I picked up the wrong computer.” Hesh didn’t elaborate, instead choosing to rub his eyes in frustration, holding his head in his hand.

A few seconds later, Hesh was looking back up at him, a tired look on his face. “Ok, ok. I’ll bring you up to the big screen. Yeah...yeah. I’ll do that.” Hesh stood up slowly, grabbing the computer and folder, before holding out a hand to Logan. “Come on, let’s give you some answers.”

Logan took the offered hand and gave the Ghost a small smile. He was finally going to get his answers!

And, stepping out of the room that had been his prison, Logan felt something spread through him.

He mistook it for happiness – answers were what he wanted, after all!

_(Logan Walker – the one_ within _him – took it as hope.)_

/ / /

_Logan Walker once wished his brother was with him – so he wouldn’t have to go through this suffering alone._

_(He stabbed the idea again and again until it was an unrecognisable mound of flesh – later, he realised he’d just killed a young man.)_

Good riddance, _he’d thought. Logan – the real him – would have felt the guilt baring him down like everything else he’d done wrong._

_That was the beginning of an endless spiral of madness – and that_ monster _had just hatched from its egg._

/ / /

“What the...Hesh! Why’d you bring _him_ here? What are you even doing with him? You’re supposed to be helping me up here!” A man in a captain’s uniform yelled as both he and the addressed Ghost entered the room, Logan feeling some eyes on him, making him start to fidget.

Hesh walked up to the man without fear, and Logan couldn’t help but be impressed. Not many would be able to stand up to a guy with that much authority. “I know, Tanner, but when _someone_ decided to draw my name on a wall, Merrick thought it best if I went up and saw him,” Hesh looked back at Logan, who shrugged; that had been all he could think of besides destroying the door and finding the Ghost himself. “Besides, he needs to know.”

_Needs to know what?_ Logan wondered, but decided to let it pass – he’d find that out soon enough.

There was a staring match between the two, both men filled with the same level of authority and hostility, and Logan felt his skin prickle. He knew the people that had stopped what they were doing to watch felt the tension, too.

And all they could do was watch, waiting to see who would emerge victorious.

After what seemed like an eternity later, the captain sighed. “Fine, but I want him in your sights at all times. In fact, I’m calling Merrick right now. He can get one of your team down here to help.” With that, Tanner turned to the watching workers, growling at them. “Well? Get back to work!” A pause, then: “What do you think you’re doing, Smithy! Didn’t I just tell you to _get back to work_?” The captain walked towards the rebelling man, and Logan watched as he pulled out his phone, yelling at the employee all the while. 

Hesh breathed a sigh of relief, turning back to Logan. “Well, let’s go, before he changes his mind.” With that, both men fled the room, Logan following Hesh into another, much smaller room that had a huge TV screen on the wall, followed by a couple of seats and desks occupying the rest of the room, a TV remote set on the nearest bench.

Hesh picked up the remote and turned on the screen, the sudden brighter light making Logan blink.

The screen showed a play button with a dark background, and Logan realised that Hesh must have planned this – or he was just really good with his TV controls.

He didn’t care, though. He was finally getting the answers he wanted!

But before Hesh pressed play, he turned to Logan. “Before I start this, I need you to understand that you might not get the answers you want and might even give you more questions than answers. I also need you to promise me something.” The Ghost looked like he was in slight pain – Logan could only feel his excitement.

“Anything.” The need to figure out what was happening was overwhelming him, and that’s probably what led to that crappy answer.

_Don’t make promises you can’t keep._

Hesh didn’t seem to care. “Please...stay with me.” It was something Logan hadn’t expected, and his excitement was momentarily forgotten, because this was a rare moment.

Hesh was vulnerable.

Right now, he was scared. For some reason, he didn’t want Logan to leave, and that surprized him.

This wasn’t something someone would do to a comrade. Not even good friends would be this dependent on one another.

No. Only loved ones would be like this – or someone that had been so close to someone else for so long that it hurt when they left.

When they were _taken_.

Logan felt his stomach start to churn, and he suddenly felt like throwing up.

Never mind the headache or pain in his stomach and shoulder – _the pain medication has started to fade!_ – or any of his other problems.

No, this man...this man was someone he knew.

Someone he was close to.

Someone he... _loved_.

“Hesh...” Logan smiled sadly, because, even if he couldn’t remember, he knew this man was someone he cared for, even if he’d already known that for ages without quite realising it. “Of course, I will.”

And he meant it. 

The two men – so complete, yet so broken – stood there, and for a moment, everything was tranquil.

“Let’s watch.” Hesh told him, smiling, and Logan himself felt his mind ease back into the excitement.

But Hesh didn’t even have time to press play.

Because the wall exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Finally, something good!  
> Even though they're 4 stories up, they still managed to get bombed! What's with this logic (coming soon, I swear!)?   
> And, finally, what Call of Duty fans have been waiting for for the past 8 chapters: sweat, sweat action and suspense.   
> Can[t wait for more? I can't wait to write it!  
> Stay tuned!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. Had to get into mood for this next bit, and trust me, you'll be shocked.  
> HeshGhost, be prepared to be sad! Very sad!

**_ Chapter 18: _ **

Logan gasps awake.

And ends up coughing in his distress, the dust in the room suffocating him.

His ears are ringing, his vision is fuzzy ( _is it just the dust?_ ) and his mind is still trying to catch up.

And his shoulder – _fuck_ – feels like it’s on fire.

_What the fuck just happened?_ Logan found himself grasping for straws, and finally, when he’s stopped choking on the dust, got a good grip on one and _heaved_ with all his might.

The memories of before hit him like a train.

_Finding Hesh. The heart-to-heart and..._

/~\

_The two men – so complete, yet so broken – stood there, and for a moment, everything was tranquil._

_“Let’s watch.”_

/~\

_The wall exploding._

Logan’s eyes focus for a moment, and he finds himself lying underneath one of the old desks that were rooted to the floor, saving him from the debris of the destroyed wall. Bright light entered the room through the large hole in the wall, the dust so thick it almost blocked the light out altogether.

Looking to the side in a daze, he saw a large amount of debris around the small room, some having fallen from the ceiling, and one of the halves of a plastic chair hanging from the top of the opposite desk to his.

He groaned as a wave of pain washed over him, his shoulder wound coming back into light, as well as how he’d been feeling the effects of the pain medication wearing off before the explosion.

_I’ll be needing more of that if I need to-_

His thoughts quietened as the distant sound of yelling broke through the ringing of his ears and, just like that, Logan realised one important thing.

The Ghosts.

_Hesh._

Logan breathed in a sharp gasp as he started upward, almost choking on the dust again, and quickly pushed himself away from underneath the desk, ignoring the fiery pain that was spreading through his body like a bushfire.

_Where is he? Where is he?_ Logan’s vision refused to refocus, but that seemed to be helping his ears, because the ringing was subsiding and- _fuck, is there a battle going on out there?_

A groan broke him out of his thoughts and, through the haze of his vision, he somehow noticed a slight shift in some debris towards the left of the hole – _was that where the TV was?_

“Hesh?” His voice cracked halfway through, the pain deciding to mess with him.

There was a cough, but that was all Logan needed. His vision was clear, and he was suddenly there, clawing and pushing the debris away and finding Hesh, covered in dust but seemingly ok.

The panic subsided, and Logan was panting in the exertion, trying to calm down.

That was when the battle outside came back into focus.

_Hesh said the Federation were a problem and that they had to hurry...did the Federation do this? If the Federation are here, then Rorke must be here, which means..._

They needed to get out of there. Now.

“Hesh,” upon no response, Logan shook the Ghost, ignoring how it made his shoulder cry out in agony. “Hesh, get up! We need to move!”

Hesh’s eyes cracked open, and Logan felt the tightness in his stomach ease just a bit. “Logan? What...” The Ghost seemed to be suffering from the same effects as he had, but considering he seemed to hear him, Logan was quick to urge him onward.

“We need to go! There’s a gunfight going on and I don’t think we’re winning. I don’t want to stick around and I don’t know where the hell I’m going, so your help would be appreciated!” Logan convinced himself that was the _only_ case, because he’d be _damned_ if he was going to say _that_.

Hesh was up in an instant, feeling around for a gun in his belt.

Hesh groaned again, but not in pain. “Shit. My gun’s gone,” He looked up at Logan, who listened to the gunfight, making sure no one came in and caught them off guard. “We need to get out of here and find some weapons. No... we need to find Merrick and the others. They can help out.” With that, Hesh played with his radio. “Merrick, Keegan, do you copy?” Static. “Kick, do you copy?” No response. Hesh cursed. “We’ll need to find some weapons. Our weapons cache is on the other side of this floor. We’ll need to make our way through carefully if we don’t want to get spotted.” Hesh walked towards the door, looking back at him. “Ready?”

_No._ No, Logan wasn’t ready. He needed pain killers if he wanted to be somewhat helpful in this very risky task, and even then, they were against the odds – the two of them against however many enemy soldiers were out there – likely in the hundreds.

But he couldn’t say no. Hesh was waiting and they didn’t have much time. If they waited too long they would get caught and, even if they went to get some medication, they’d be overrun in no time.

No, they had to get going. Maybe they could get the meds after they got their hands on some weapons, maybe not; only time would tell.

Logan walked over to Hesh, picking up a small and sharp piece of wood, already feeling more protected than before. “Ready.”

Hesh nodded at him, before turning back to the door, listening out for anything out of the ordinary. Seeming to hear nothing, the Ghost slowly turned the doorknob and, leaving a tiny crack to see through the door, peaked through.

A few tense seconds passed, before Hesh pushed the door open, looking the other way as he did so.

After another few seconds, Hesh gestured Logan forward, and he walked quietly after the Ghost, watching the hallway carefully as the lights flickered on and off.

All that could be heard was the intense breathing of the two men, the gunfight outside still audible, but unimportant.

They had to reach the armoury.

Hesh reached a corner and stopped Logan, looking around the bend while Logan looked behind them.

Empty.

“This way.” Hesh whispered, jogging halfway up the corridor before stopping at a door, gesturing Logan to hurry up. “In here.”

Logan reached Hesh, who opened the door for him, revealing a staircase.

Logan frowned. “Why are we going down? I thought the armoury was on the other side of this floor.”

Hesh bit his lip, causing Logan’s eyebrows to scrunch together, frowning. “I need to go find an important friend that’ll definitely help us out.”

For a moment, Logan felt angry. Why were they going down when they could get caught? Why was this friend so important that they had to risk their lives for them?

But then something inside him shifted in a form of understanding, and Logan couldn’t stop himself from saying ok, because this feeling was so hard to fight against that he just... _couldn’t_.

So, he followed the feeling down the staircase, Hesh on the rear.

Hesh tapped him on the shoulder as he was passing a door, stopping him. “This is the level.”

_The level to what?_ Logan wanted to ask, but refrained. He’d find out soon enough...or die. There’s always that gloomy option.

Speaking of which, the gunfire had gotten louder; how close were they?

Or, the better question, just how far was Hesh willing to go to find a friend?

Instead of pushing the door open with force, Hesh shouldered his way in front of him and slowly opened the door, moving with it as he checked out the area, the door protecting him from view.

Logan watched as Hesh peeked around the door, before sighing in relief. “Clear.”

Logan walked into the hallway after the Ghost, glancing at a poster on the wall beside the door they’d just exited.

He frowned, stopping to squint at the map. “We’re in the infirmary?” Hesh stopped moving stealthily against the wall, turning back to look at him. “We’re here to get an injured man?” Jumping to conclusions, Logan’s voice rose above the whispering they’d silently agreed to.

The Ghost quickly shushed him, looking behind his back in haste. “Who said it was a man?” Logan frowned, before realisation dawned on him. “Now, we need to keep moving, or else we’re sitting ducks!” With that, Hesh crouched and, pressing himself against the wall, silently walked the few steps to the corner, peering around it.

Hesh motioned Logan forward after a moment, disappearing around the corner.

“Great,” Logan muttered, placing a hand on his head, groaning. “We’re risking our lives for a damned dog. Could this day get any better?” He shook his head, before looking up, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Actually, it can. If Hesh is coming down here to get a dog, then I can get what I want!” With that, Logan followed Hesh around the bend, who was waiting by yet another door.

Hesh held his finger to his lips, pointing at the door with the glass window, holding up three fingers.

Logan stood there for a moment, narrowing his eyes. Wouldn’t they still be held up from the battle outside?

Logan frowned, before focusing his senses; something didn’t feel right. At all.

But all was silent.

Logan’s eyes widened in realisation. _Silence_.

No gunfire. The skirmish was over.

The Federation had won.

They didn’t have long, now.

_Shit._

Logan frantically touched his ear multiple times, Hesh staring at him like he was crazy. “Gunfire.” He whispered hastily, before a huge bang shattered the silence.

It sounded like...

_The door. Shit, the door!_

Logan leaned into the wall and peered around the corner to the corridor they’d just gone through, revealing five armed men, weapons up, moving through the hallway quickly – quicker than Logan liked.

And they were sharp enough to spot his sharp movement back into the safety of the wall, because he heard a cry in Spanish and the loud crack of bullets slamming into the wood where his face had been moments before.

“Shit!” He cried, jumping backwards, falling on his arse as the bullets bit through the wall, almost hitting him. “Shit! We’ve gotta _move_!” He scrambled to his feet, spotting Hesh already across the hallway, waving him right and yelling at him to hurry up.

A burst of adrenaline raced through him, and just like that the pain was pushed away and he could finally focus like...like...

_Like a professional._

Logan’s sprinting down the hall now, towards Hesh, and hears the thump of enemy footsteps behind him, along with a few bullets being released from their chambers.

But then he hears the sound of another door breaking down and cries of surprize and pain as another wave of bullets bursts through the hall.

Logan somehow reaches the end of the corridor alive, ducking into the cover of the wall beside Hesh, turning to see what the hell just happened.

He takes it in the blink of an eye: the five men who almost blew Logan’s head off lying dead on the floor and three familiar men standing above them, assault rifles in hand, one man waving them over while another smirked at the other man, who was, along with the first man, wearing a Ghost mask.

“Told you we’d save their asses!” Kick cried in victory, punching his friend, who only groaned.

“I am _not_ commenting on that.” Though Keegan’s voice was muffled through his mask, Logan knew it was the quiet medic. Kick always enjoyed being right, and Keegan was always making bets with him.

His relief at finding friends was so great that he didn’t even think about how the hell he knew that.

Before Kick could respond, Merrick’s voice fluttered through his mask, his eyes urgent. “Guys! Focus! Now’s not the time for your games!”

A bark of agreement snaps Logan’s head behind him, almost giving him whiplash.

And there, in all his glory, stood Riley, wagging his tail.

“Riley!” Hesh cried, and the German Shepard raced over to him, licking his face as he bowled his trainer over, the Ghost laughing softly. “It’s good to see you too, boy.”

Logan watches sadly, his gut twisting painfully as he thinks ‘ _I should be there too’._ He ignores that pain _(the one he can’t handle)_ and decides that his own physical agony is too great to ignore.

His vision blurs and he slides down the wall, leaving a bloody mess in his wake, adrenaline vanishing.

He’d been a fool to think he’d be able to outrun the bullets. He’d already been hurt enough; now he’s got a bullet in his arm and a grazed leg and his stitches have probably opened back up and fuck it – he wasn’t going anywhere without medical attention now. Even he wasn’t that naive; he’d bleed out before he made it out of the institute – _assuming_ he didn’t pass out on the way.

_Assuming_ he could get up.

He stared at his leg for a few seconds, watching the dark blood pool around his leg out of the rip in his army pants, pushing a hand against his right arm, leaning his head against the bloodied wall with a sigh, closing his eyes.

_Why? Why is my luck so shit that I always end up on the other side of the barrel? Why does it..._ something wet slid up his cheek, and he opens his eyes to find Riley as the culprit, whining in worry.

He wasn’t the only one.

“Logan? Ah, shit,” Heshs’ concerned tone fills his ears, his face coming into full focus as he crouched down in front of him, a hand hovering in the air with no place to go. “Keegan, Merrick! Logan’s been hit!”

Everything goes a bit fuzzy as a string of curses fly out of the Ghosts’ lips way too slowly and everything seems to be tilting sideways.

And then he sees him.

A man in a standard army uniform stands beside Hesh, cocking his head at Logan.

Logan doesn’t even acknowledge how Keegan and Merrick rush over and are in the process of trying to block the wounds. He doesn’t even hear them.

He only has eyes for this stranger. Short dirty blonde hair around a round face, along with brown eyes that hold a certain intelligence he hasn’t seen in a while. Standing straight with a thoughtful expression, Logan realised he recognised this man.

But from where?

“Who are you?” He whispers, squinting at the man, his head feeling dense and foggy like it weighed a hundred pounds.

The stranger smirked at him, gesturing at Logan. “I thought you’d easily recognise yourself, buddy.”

Logan swore he heard a pin drop. “What?” He can’t help but ask the question, because he can’t think anymore. His head feels so full of nothing that he can’t really focus as much as he’d like to admit.

The stranger smiled sadly. “I’m the real you, Logan. The person you’ve been looking for.”

/// //// //// //// ///

**_David “Hesh” Walker_ **

/// //// //// //// ///

“Logan?” Hesh was shaking. Trembling, if he was honest. Logan was hurt. Badly hurt. Again. “Ah, shit.” He calls out to his team, and if it’s shaky and full of fear, he knows they won’t comment.

He’d just got his baby brother back, and he’d be damned if he was going to lose him again.

A string of curses flies from his lips, ones he doesn’t even try to put real meaning into, because he’s stuck. His mouth is blabbering the first thing he can think of and if that’s how Merrick and Keegan find him, as a blabbering mess, he knows they won’t comment.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He wants to put pressure on the wounds. He wants to hold Logan’s hand and tell him it’s going to be ok. He wants to...he wants to...

His hand is stuck in mid-air, and if that’s how Merrick and Keegan find him, in his weakest moment, he knows they won’t comment.

They gently push him out of the way, and Riley’s there to comfort him.

But he doesn’t feel his friend.

Logan’s staring somewhere past him, and he sees the confusion in his gaze. And he’s probably the only one who hears him ask, “who are you?”

And he panics, because nobody is there and what if he can see _dad_?

“Stay with me, Logan! I need you!” Tears catch in his eyes, and he scrambled over to grab his baby brother, breathing hard.

But Merrick shoves him away, giving him his gun, telling him to cover them; that they’ve got this.

And it’s then that more Feds thunder through the hallway, and Hesh tears his gaze away from his last bloodline, knowing he had to do this.

It would give them more time to save Logan, after all.

He peeks around the bloody corner and, finding half a dozen Feds charging up the corridor, fires the AK-12 Merrick gave him into the sea of tangos, watching them fall like flies.

But their blood-curdling screams would only send more here, if not the deafening sound of bullets exiting their chambers.

He leans back into the wall, closing his eyes for a moment. He couldn’t break down. Not here, not now. He had to step up, he had to let Keegan do the work.

He had to calm the fuck down.

“We can’t stay here, guys! Feds will be encroaching on our position anytime now – we’ll be overrun in minutes!” He cries out, just as more footsteps and angry shouts make their way down the hallway, Hesh meeting with another flare of bullets.

He curses as he reloads, biting his lip. _I didn’t get all of them!_

Finishing the reload, he peeks out the corner, finding, just as he suspected, a few tangos racing to cover. He shoots mercilessly into their retreating forms, managing to hit three before covering fire finally arrives, forcing him to go duck behind his own cover.

His very shitty cover.

Some parts of the wall were packed with metal behind it. He’d learnt that three years ago, when he’d first came here, and his dad had told him to remember it. He’d guess that when the Americans came and took this over as their base, they changed most of the structure so if they did get overrun, they’d have proper cover in their base, too.

But, the plasterer didn’t finish the job, and the only way to tell the difference between old and older colour are the pale and paler paint job.

Fortunately, he’d hid behind one with metal. What made it better was one of the tangos were in the shitty cover.

Hesh fired into the wall, thankful to hear the cry of pain. With one left, he doesn’t think about what he just thought – he turns to his part of the wall and crouches, waiting for the guy to come out.

Finally, he resurfaces, and he’s quick to shoot him in the stomach, ending him with one to the face.

Its then that he realises what the guy was doing.

Throwing a-

“Flashbang!” He cries out in warning, and he doesn’t even have time to turn back into cover before it blasts, his ears ringing and eyes burning, blinding white his only confrontation.

He feels himself stumbling backwards, his mouth moving in a string of curses. Hopefully; he can’t hear a thing!

His eyesight slightly returns, and instead of the white, he finds a very fuzzy ghostly face in front of his, telling him something he can’t hear. He says as much – at least, he hopes he does – and Merrick just takes the gun off him, pushing him away.

He hears a very broken, “Go- Keegan!” before bullets take over the little hearing he has, making him wince as a headache starts to swell behind his eyes.

_What luck!_

All he can do is wait, though. He stands there, closing his eyes, as his hearing gradually returns, and is quick to open his clear eyes when he hears Logan’s groan.

He rushes over to Keegan, Kick next to him, having returned from his errand. He wants to ask, ‘how is he’ and anything that isn’t helpful, but he knows he has to be strong for him. For Logan. “What can I do?”

Instead of yelling orders, Keegan looks up, and Hesh sees _that_ look. “We can’t move him. It would be too much for his body,” he sighs, pinching his nose, before taking off his mask, shaking his head, short brown hair sticking up. “You can’t do anything right now.”

For a moment, Hesh finds himself staring at his baby brother’s body, watching his shallow breaths, muscles tense, despite his semiconscious state.

_I have to do_ something _! Logan...he has to live! He_ must _!_

Hesh demands exactly that, yet he finds the medic staring at a needle in his hand, rushing with a yellow liquid. He narrows his eyes. “What’s that? What are you doing?”

To Hesh’s surprize, Keegan gives him a pained look. “I’m saving a life.” Something about that sentence makes him tense. Something about his voice...

Something about the tone he used.

Guilt-ridden. Sad. Regretful.

Hesh tenses, because fuck it, this is his brother, and yes, he trusts Keegan with his life, but that tone...

What does he mean?

“Keegan-” _too late_ , he realises, as Keegan, with a sudden, sharp movement, plunges the needle into his brothers’ neck, pushing the liquid down.

Sure, he trusts Keegan with his life, but if he’s hesitant, avoiding questions, and talking in _that_ tone...well, trust is thrown out the window.

Especially when Logan starts to converse immediately, choking, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“Logan!” Hesh cries, his breath quickening as he snatches him from his medic’s hands, placing him on the floor before stepping away from his brothers’ convulsing body, hands shaking.

_What do I do? What_ do _I_ do _?_ His thoughts are short, sharp, fast, much like his erratic breathing pattern, and his eyes are wider than dinner plates, staring at Logan’s... _still form_.

Blood trickling down the corner of his mouth, head limp, hands still, chest unmoving-

“LOGAN!” He screeches, and he’s on top of his brother in an instant, pressing down on his chest like a madman, basic CPR the only thing filling his head.

“No, no, no...” He mutters, his chest tightening, sending a breath into Logan’s mouth. “Don’t...please, don’t, Logan, don’t, please...” The gunshots fade away, the only sound his strained, crazed heartbeat, his erratic breathing and a dull muttering in the background – _mine_ , he realises.

He doesn’t pay it any heed, however. He just keeps pushing, ignoring the battle, ignoring the metallic taste assaulting his tastebuds, ignoring everything but his everything.

His brother.

His Logan.

He doesn’t feel the hand on his shoulder until it shakes him, and he hears a “Hesh, I’m so sorry-” but he doesn’t care, not right now.

Logan is all that matters.

He keeps pushing on his likely broken ribcage, he keeps tasting blood, he keeps moving his aching limbs for one more shove, because it’s his brother. It’s Logan. It’s his world.

And his world isn’t breathing.

He can’t do anymore, however. Someone’s just grabbed him under the armpits, attempting to drag him off, but he fights.

_No, no, no! He’s not breathing yet! HE’S NOT BREATHING!_ His thoughts burst out his mouth, and he kicks, punches, flails about because _fuck_ , he’s not letting him die on him!

He _won’t_ lose him again! Not after he _just_ got him back!

But the hands don’t let go. Even as he screams, even as gunshots get louder, even as he hits him over and over again, the hands don’t let go.

“He’s...he’s gone, Hesh.” That same voice – guilt-ridden, sad, regretful – is what whispers to him, as Logan’s still form fills his gaze, not registering Riley sniffing at the body, licking the bloody dirty blonde hair.

He goes limp, and to him, it’s quiet. 

And then the thoughts assaulted him full force.

_Logan’s...Logan’s..._ He can’t think. Can’t speak. Can’t bare to acknowledge a world where _he_ isn’t-

_Keegan just...Keegan just..._ And the mess he is exploded into a bomb fire, sparking, expanding, roaring-

“I trusted you!” He snarls, finally tearing himself from the medic’s grip, tears rolling down his face. “But you killed him! You killed _Logan_!” He sobs, his chest squeezing until it felt like his ribs were about to shatter, choking on the last word.

And that’s when the canister rolls down the hallway, stopping between a frozen Merrick and wide-eyed Kick.

“Sleeping gas! Move!” Merrick cries, but it’s too late.

The pink gas escapes from its chamber, and Hesh is quick to scramble up to Logan, because fuck, he’s dead _he’s dead_ **_he’s dead_** and he can’t- he can’t-

_Cope._

The word is slurred, even in his mind, as the gas reaches his nostrils, but he has enough in him to grip Logan with all he’s got.

He’s not letting him go. He’s not letting this warm body go, and while the warmth gives him comfort, he knows, in his heart, that soon it’ll be as cold as ice.

He hears his friends cough, hears a voice yell at Riley to get away, hears footsteps thundering down the corridor.

But he doesn’t give it any thought.

He sobs, placing a soft hand on soft skin, staring at that handsome face, wishing that he’d done something, anything.

_If I’d been faster, I could have saved him._

His eyes water, his skin nostrils burn, and dizziness overtakes his brain.

_I failed you._ He wallows, coughing, almost at the end of consciousness. _I failed you, Logan._

_It’s my fault you’re dead._


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, guys. I tried to post it earlier this week, but there was something wrong with the post. It's fixed, so here you go!  
> Enjoy!

He’d _been on the beach for what seemed like hours before, finally, something interesting happened._

_One man, determined, strong, exhausted, his ghost mask covering his handsome features, materialised on the beach, dragging another man along with him._

He _stood, walking towards the pair, recognising both of them, but a sense of dread stopped_ him _from exploring._

He _shifted from foot to foot, watching as they made it to the large rocks, both men about to lean against them._

 _“You... You got him, Logan.” The wounded man drawled out strongly, Logan sitting him against the rock. “You did it.” He continued breathlessly, but_ he _supposed it was from the bullet that’d torn through his chest and almost drowning._

He _watched as he lay his head against the rock for a second, closing his eyes and taking a sharp breath, before placing a hand on his com, leaning forward. “Merrick, come in.” When no answer came immediately, he let out a sigh, leaning his head back, before leaning forward once again. “Merrick, do you copy?” His voice is rough and strained, and the moment he gets a relieving answer, he shifts, grimacing._

 _“Hesh? Hesh, is that you?”_ He _, too, hears Merrick over the line, and he turns to look at a bald Logan, leaning against his own rock, leaning back, panting, watching Hesh._

 _“Yeah, I’m with Logan.” He pauses, taking a shaky gasp. “We’re ok.” He leans back again, and from_ his _spot,_ he _sees Hesh wince covering it from an observant Logan._

 _“And Rorke?” The question is hesitant, but_ he _doesn’t pay it any heed._ His _stomach’s doing summersaults, and_ he _can’t stop from fidgeting._

_“Dead.” Another shaky gasp. “He’s dead.” Hesh leans back again, and he isn’t the only one who hears the obvious relief in Merrick’s voice._

_“Copy that.” A pause, likely their leader giving a thumbs-up to onlookers. “The Federation’s in full retreat. The rest of the payload’s inbound to finish the job.” Another pause. “Sit tight. Recon’s coming for you.”_

_And, with only a slight rumble in warning, the first missile hits the boat across the sea, the blinding light making all three of them shield their eyes, the explosions’ wave traveling a couple hundred metres in all directions._

_Putting all their hands down, the trio watch as the explosions hit, again and again, and, despite feeling warmth travel through_ him _,_ his _gut doesn’t stop making itself heard._

 _And_ he _watches as Hesh turns toward Logan after the first three missiles strike, nodding at his brother. “I’m proud of you, Logan.” He then turns back, leaning his head back against the rock once again, shutting his eyes, another explosion rocketing into the distance, hitting the sea once more._

_Logan does the same, leaning back and sighing, and the two brothers stay like that for a while, watching the explosions in the distance, smoke billowing from their marvellous display._

_But, oh so soon, Logan starts to turn his head, and as_ he _finally sees Rorke stalking towards the brothers,_ he _realises just what_ his _gut had been trying to tell_ him _._

_Logan turns to look right, just as Rorke lifts a foot to nail him in the face._

_And_ he _can only watch as Logan grunts, his face flying back towards Hesh, before grabbing his knife, turning to nail it into the intruders’ neck. But he catches his wrist, and, with one swift movement, brings his other arm down, snapping his arm in two. Logan lets out a cry of pain just as Rorke nails him in the face, the young Ghost sent flying onto the floor._

He _watches as Logan lays there for a moment, before looking around wildly, only for Rorke to slowly make his way in front of Hesh, the sunlight gleaming on his black bandanna, a gloved hand holding his chest. Glancing at Logan, he turns back, swinging his free arm. “Look at what you did.” The Ghost Killer growls, turning to look at Logan, a snarl playing on his lips._

 _He than raises his leg, kicking Hesh in the chin, sending his reeling with a pained grunt, Rorke turning towards Logan, both hands holding his chest for a moment, leaning over. He stands upright, taking a sharp breath, pointing at Logan. “You’re good.” His voice is as rough as gravel, and_ he _flinches as he starts to bend into a crouch, one hand free. “You would have been a hell of a Ghost.” He breaths, his lips quirking, the blood on his face shining._

 _Another missile streaks by, and_ he _almost misses it, watching as Logan starts, turning his head to fully face his worst enemy. “But that’s not gonna happen.” His eyes bare into Logans’, and he leans forward, smirking. “There ain’t gonna_ be _any Ghosts.” He takes a breath, before leaning backwards, his eyes not leaving Logans’. Now, a pointed grin spreads across his face, giving_ him _shivers. “We’re gonna destroy them together.”_

He _jumps, feeling something akin to an electric shock as Rorke grabs Logans’ ankle, beginning to drag him away._

 _And_ he _watches, shaking, as Logans’ body turns towards Hesh, his arm reaching for him. Hesh, leaning forward, arm beginning to reach, states his brothers name. “Logan.”_

He _shivers._ He’d _heard this before. It’d haunted_ his _dreams from the moment it had occurred._

 _And_ he _can_ hear _Logan’s sudden quickening of breath, the sound wheezing out of his open mouth._

_“Logan!” Heshs’ voice is strained, desperate, louder, seeming to suddenly realise what was happening._

_And it’s followed by another, where Hesh cries, shouts, screeches, out his brothers’ name, more haunting than the last._

_“LOGAN!”_

_/ / /_

_He_ feels the change almost instantly. The sudden shift from burning hot to a cool, middle temperature.

Then, _he_ sees it. The sandy beach converted into a blank space, white being the only occupant in the unexplored, unmarked, potentially _dangerous_ area.

 _He_ hears the sound of footsteps, next. The memory had already set _him_ on edge, and now, jittery and jumpy, _he_ turns, bringing _his_ fists up, breathing hard.

“Woah, woah, woah.” _He_ finds _himself_ staring at a tall white-haired man, skin creased, tanned hands in front of him, raised upward in surrender _._ “No need for that here, son.”

And _he_ freezes, slowly lowering _his_ fists. _He_ knew that voice. _He’d_ know that voice anywhere.

The man had raised _him_ , after all.

“Dad?” _His_ mouth agape, _he_ starts to shake.

_This is a joke. This has to be a cruel joke._

Lowering his hands, _Elias Walker_ smiled at _him_ , taking a step forward. “It’s good to see you, my boy.” He outstretches his arms, walking towards _him_ , but _he_ doesn’t comply. _His_ breathing quickens, and _he_ steps backwards for every step he takes, shaking.

_This isn’t real. It’s a dream. A sick and twisted dream._

_His_ father stops, his arms dropping to his sides, a small frown overriding the smile. Elias then sighs, brushing a hand through his thin white hair. “I thought it’d be nice to do this, but it seems _this_ isn’t doing any good.” He lets out another long sigh. “I guess we’ll have to get straight to business.”

And, just like that, Elias’ posture changes. He stands straighter, holds his chin higher, and even holds his hands behind his back. His calm, collected, and commanding aura flares to the front, and _he_ can’t help but stand taller and truly acknowledge this man.

 _His_ father. _His_ captain.

 _His_ leader.

“You have to save them.” _He_ opens _his_ mouth, but Elias holds up his hand, silencing _him_. “You and you alone.”

“Save who?” _He_ cries, because _god damn it_ , _he_ doesn’t understand. “Who do I have to save?”

But Elias only looks up at _him_ , seriousness his only feature. “You know who.”

And the then world spins, dragging _him_ down into darkness, the light disappearing.

_“DAD!”_

/ / /

“Come on! I thought you knew better than to trust a fox.” _He_ looks up, the familiar voice reaching _his_ ears, the sudden darkness surrounding _him_ making _him_ amplify _his_ senses.

“What fox?” _He_ says, clenching _his_ fists. “Last time I checked, _you_ were the fox.” A gruff laugh echoes everywhere around _him_ , and _he_ spins around, heart thumping.

“I thought you’d think that. I mean, I _was_ the cunning one.” Now it’s _his_ time to laugh, shaking _his_ head.

“Cunning? There’s nothing cunning about you! How about forceful? How about...demanding?” _He_ hears a growl, and _he_ smirks in satisfaction. “That seems to fit you a lot better.”

Quick as lightning, _he’s_ grabbed by the collar of _his_ destroyed shirt and thrown to the ground, the breath knocked out of _him_. _He_ doesn’t even have time to recover as a heavy weight slams _him_ back into the ground, pinning _him_ down. “I don’t have time for this! You’ll be waking up soon, and it’s there where you’ll choose what happens next. Whether _they_ live...or die.” The smirk is clear in his voice in his next words. “And I can only hope that you’ll choose to kill them.”

And then the world shakes, and _he_ screams, the hole opening up from the ground revealing the long-lost light from the other side.

And, as _he_ falls, _he_ sees Rorke’s grinning face looking down at _him_ from the edge of the crevasse.

///~0~\\\\\

**Time Passed: Unknown**

His head pounds. It doesn’t leave, it doesn’t fade away. It stays, and its persistent nagging is probably what caused Hesh to gradually awaken from his troubled slumber.

Sound isn’t present until he’s half aware of his surroundings, and even then, what he does hear doesn’t make any sense.

“-you did. You tried so hard to succeed, but it only ended up in _his_ death. What does it say about you ‘legendary’ Ghosts?” That victorious voice steadily grew louder until it was blaring in his ears, Hesh listening to the slap of fist on skin and the grunts of the victim.

He opens his eyes in a daze, and it’s all fuzzy; his head feels the same way.

Hesh sees a part of the dark shadow collide with another slumped shadow, hearing another grunt. “That we never give up.” A familiar voice growls, and another grunt soon follows.

“What, like you didn’t give up on me?” Hesh blinks slowly, the words still not analysing, the world still stuck in a blur of black and white.

He wants to rub a hand through his short hair (and if he was more awake, he’d say that he needed to get a buzz cut soon), and maybe that’s the echoing thought that leads to awareness, because he _can’t_.

He freezes, a tingling sensation running down his arms, and he’s quick to try again with much more force, eyes snapping open, breath quickening.

It doesn’t work, and that’d when he realises where he is. Sitting on a chair, hands tied behind the back of the chair ( _quite uncomfortably,_ might he add), Hesh finally _sees_.

His fellow Ghosts sit in chairs around Rorke like they were corners of a square ( _or diamond_ , Hesh mused). Merrick, who was across from him, was looking down, his face bruised and bleeding from all the square punches he’d received. Kick (who was to his right) and Keegan (who was to his left, back to the door) were looking at him, and while untouched (well, Kick was; Keegan had blood rolling down his face from a few recent hits), their faces were slack, and he doesn’t understand _why_.

Maybe that’s because Rorke just turned over to him, smirking.

And, while he may have no idea how he got here, he steels himself, hands shaking, _because god damnit, he’s right here and he wants to kill this bastard and-_

“Have a nice sleep, Hesh? Dream of your little brother?” Hesh quirks his eyebrow, and Rorke frowns. “Your ol’ brain found it too shocking to remember, huh? Well, let me show you.” His voice is bright, and the smirk that’s back is making Hesh feel beetles crawl up his arms.

“Dammit, Rorke! Stop!” Keegan cries, but Rorke only looks at the medic with a cruel gaze.

“Why? To suit your own damn needs?” He drawls, and Keegan doesn’t respond, head down.

That’s when the Ghost Killer steps aside.

And Hesh _stares_.

On the table behind Merrick lay his baby brother, Logan.

Eyes closed, blonde hair caked with dry blood, skin pale. He only sees his face, and it’s enough for all the memories to rush back. _The wall exploding, walking down the halls, Logan getting hit, Logan seizing, Logan dying..._

“No.” He shakes his head, biting his lip so hard it bled. “No, no, no.”

Rorke only grins. “Yes, Hesh. And it’s all Keegan’s fault.”

He remembers. The needle filled with questionable liquid. Keegan’s tone. Injecting the yellow liquid into Logans’ neck.

Then the seizure. Then no pulse.

Then he died.

Then _Logan_ died.

Then his baby brother _died_.

He wants to feel that heat in his chest. He wants to feel that uncontrollable flame bare down on him like a vice.

He wants to feel something, anything akin to that raging inferno, but he just... _can’t_.

Hesh stares at his brothers face, long enough so he thinks Logans’ corpse has winced, but he knows it can’t be true. And it’s all his fault...

Maybe if he’d pushed harder...

Maybe if he’d reacted quicker...

Maybe if he’d done _better_...

Logan would still be here.

Hesh hangs his head, and he hears Rorke laugh.

And maybe that’s what sets off that roller-coaster of a thought.

_Rorke did this. He killed dad. He took Logan. He’s the one who did this. Who started this crusade. Who destroyed my family._

_Who killed Logan._

And maybe that’s what makes that unfathomable blaze erupt in his stomach, because the next thing he knows he’s looking up at Rorke, a deadly snarl plastered across his face. “No, this is all your fault, Rorke! You killed my dad- _our_ dad.” He glances at Logans’ still form, gritting his teeth. “And now you’ve killed Logan. All for one vengeful crusade to get back at your team. What next, huh? What are you going to do now? You’ve got us all right in the palm of your hand. You going to kill me? It’s what you’ve been wanting to do for a long time now, right? I mean, Elias –” The name feels bitter on his tongue, but that doesn’t stop him. “– was your ultimate goal, and you killed him. Now that you killed Logan, why not finish off the bloodline?” Hesh laughs bitterly. “Why not kill me?”

Rorke stands there for a minute, an unreadable expression on his face, before he smiles, black bandana making him look like a pirate. “Don’t you get it? I don’t wanna kill you. Not yet, anyway.” Rorke leans in close enough so Hesh can smell his rank breath, which he wrinkles his nose at. “I want you to suffer just as I did.” He pulls back and waves at someone behind Keegan, and Hesh watches at the corner of his eye as two guards walk into the room, assault rifles at the ready. “Take him away.” Rorke bites, and Hesh thinks he’s referring to him.

But then the guards walk over to Logan and, after securing their weapons behind their backs, grab his legs, dragging him off the table and onto the floor with a thud.

A sudden tightness spreads through his chest, and his breath picks up, a cold chill spreading through his body.

_No._

Rorke grins as Hesh starts to pull at his bounds, yelling profanities. “Son of a bitch! Leave Logan alone!”

The Ghost Killer raises a brow, snorting. “What are you gonna do about it, son? _Kill_ me?” He mocks, and Hesh growls, but otherwise stays silent.

“Now that I’ve shut you up, I can focus on the real task.” Rorke announces, Hesh watching as Logan’s dragged through the door, gritting his teeth. “Which one of you am I gonna kill?”

The former Ghost captain pulled out his pistol, pointing it at Keegan. “eeny, meeny, miny, moe,” he points the gun around the group at each new word, Hesh clenching his fists into tight balls, “which one of you do I hate the most?”

His gaze hardens as it lands on Merrick. “You.” He pulls the trigger, and Merrick lets out a cry as the bullet pierces his chest, biting his lip.

Rorke doesn’t pull any more, however. He watches, satisfied, as Merrick grunts, hunched over his now bloodied form. “That all you got, ya son of a bitch?” He breaths, and Rorke smirks.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty more where that came from.” Rorke bites back, but before he can do anything, Keegan’s suddenly sprung free, tackling Rorke, baring down on him with a knife. “Oh no you don’t!” Rorke cries, twisting Keegan’s wrist, the Ghost letting out a cry of pain. “Like that, huh?” Rorke asks as he kicks Keegan away, the medic crashing into the chair, the knife clattering to the floor. “Why not let my friends crash the party!”

That’s when two guards burst through the door, and while Merrick and Kick are struggling to get out of their chairs, Hesh is frozen, because Rorke is right behind him, mouth beside his ear as he whispers, the smug words echoing through his head. And then he’s gone, and Hesh can finally breathe again.

The words settle in his mind but he pays them no heed. Not yet.

_I have to find Logan first!_

As Keegan struggles with the guards ( _killing one_ , Hesh notes) and Merrick and Kick unsuccessfully try to break their bounds, Hesh suddenly finds the knife a metre or two away from his feet.

_I can reach it!_

He stretches his leg, his shoe just touching the tip of the knife. He glances up, finding Keegan in trouble, pinned to the ground by the remaining guard, the medic in a stalemate, the pistol pushed to the side. For now.

_If I can kick this towards him..._

Hesh brushes his foot against the top, finding no movement.

_Again!_

He repeats, only to find the same result.

_One more time!_

This time, he grits his teeth as he stretches, his bones cracking, and feels the knife spin towards him, Hesh letting out a long sigh.

_Get it to Keegan!_

“Keegan!” He cries, kicking the knife towards the medic.

And Hesh watches, almost in slow motion, as Keegan glances at the knife sliding toward him and, with one firm push to throw his opponent off, reaches out a hand and grabs it, stabbing the tango in the neck with one swift movement, pushing the corpse off of him.

“Nice work, Hesh.” Keegan acknowledges, nodding ( _a rare moment_ , Hesh realises), before turning to Merrick and cutting his bounds, giving the weapon to Merrick as he slowly stands, Keegan walking over to Hesh, untying his suddenly throbbing wrists.

Once he regains mobility, he brings his hands together, rubbing his wrists, seeing how red and raw they were, the skin peeled back in his struggling.

Hesh stands, walking over to the corpses, stripping them of their weapons, consisting of two P226’s, an AK-12, a Honey Badger, and a few mags for each gun.

The Ghost purses his lips, before nodding. _This’ll have to do. We’ll get more along the way._

Hesh turns around, finding Merrick holding his ribs, blood dripping from his fingers. “Are you ok?”

Merrick grits his teeth. “I’m alright.”

“Looks like the bullet still broke a rib, though.” Keegan mutters absentmindedly, and Hesh doesn’t have to wait long for him to voice his thoughts. “We have to go after Logan.”

Hesh winces, before remembering Rorkes’ request. ‘ _If you make it out of this one, come and find me. Logan will be waiting.’_

“Rorke said for me to come and find him. He said Logan would be waiting. What is his game?” Hesh wonders, shaking his head, frowning bitterly.

Keegan sighs, pursing his lips. “Hesh, I have something to tell you.” Hesh scrunches his eyebrows. _What could be possibly want to tell me? How sorry he is?_

The medic avoids his gaze, though, muscles tense. “Well?” Hesh asks, frowning.

Hesh is more than frowning when Keegan finally meets his gaze, biting his lip.

“Logan’s alive.”

/// //// //// //// ///

**_Logan Walker_ **

/// //// //// //// ///

**5 Minutes Earlier**

His heartbeat is slow. His pulse it weak.

That’s probably what saved him from a quicker death.

Logans’ hand twitches as he awakens, his heartbeat thumping in his ears.

_Ba...bum...ba...bum..._

“ _You would have been a hell of a Ghost.”_ A whisper in his ears. He’s slow to respond, taking a sharp and shaky breath. _“But that’s not gonna happen. There ain’t gonna_ be _any Ghosts.”_

“We’re gonna destroy them together.” He breathes, shuddering.

He remembers. He remembers that final pure memory. He remembers that last moment before his life turned upside down.

Before he started to forget.

He grits his teeth, clenching his fists as his wounds cry out. _Keep quiet._ He thinks, tensing. _Someone’s here! Someone’s talking!_

“Look at what you did.” He almost gasps, almost snaps his eyes open, but refrains. He has to be quiet. “You tried so hard to succeed, but it only ended up in _his_ death. What does it say about you ‘legendary’ Ghosts?”

He hears a grunt a few feet away, and he winces. “That we never give up.”

He knew that voice. Merrick. That only confirmed his suspicions.

_Captured. Again._

Another grunt. “What, like you didn’t give up on me?”

Logan winces again. _“I made the hardest decision of my life. I let him go, and saved the others.”_

A few more hits fly by, and by now his head is pounding. _“Good men are defined by the choices they make.”_

 _Rorke is not a good man._ The thought is random, uncalled for, but he still agrees.

He hears a commotion, and he opens his eyes into slits, before closing them. The light it harsh, his head feels fuzzy, and quite frankly, he’s just not ready yet.

That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

“Have a nice sleep, Hesh? Dream of your little brother?” Logan opens his eyes and, despite the unbearably bright light, keeps them open, lifting his head.

His whole body yells and screams and cries at the movement, so he just flops back down, closing his eyes, missing Rorkes’ next words.

But he didn’t miss Keegans’.

“Damnit, Rorke! Stop!” And suddenly, Logan’s wrestling a gun between him and a stronger Rorke, housing a bullet wound to the abdomen.

“Come on!” _Rorke yells, continuing even as Hesh cries out._

_“Damn it, Rorke! Stop!”_

_“Just a little more that way! Point it...at...dad!” Shooting his father, losing his grip, getting socked in the face – enough to disorientate him enough to not be able to get up again._

_Heshs’ desperate cries. “Logan! Logan!”_

That’s what snaps him out of it, but by then, Hesh is yelling ( _holy fuck, they think I’m dead?_ ), his attention fully on Rorke, and Logan opens his eyes to find Keegan staring at him, giving him a slight nod towards his feet, and it’s there where he sees the knife resting on the bench, an arm’s length away.

 _My luck._ He smirks and, looking back at Keegan, he nods, glancing at Hesh, Rorke right up in his face, before reaching, his injured arm screeching in pain.

But he fingers the handle, and that’s all it takes for him to grasp it with all his strength, turning it towards his wrist in a fleeting attempt to conceal it.

And he’s lucky, because just as he does that, the guards enter the room.

He shuts his eyes, and just as he feels the hands on his ankles, he’s thrust off the bench, letting out a barely audible choked gasp as his ribs jostle, wanting to hurl profanities at the two men.

But he has to act dead, because as far as he knows, they think he’s dead.

“Son of a bitch! Leave Logan alone!” Heshs’ voice thumps in his ears, and he grimaces, biting his lip.

 _Oh, Hesh..._ But that moment of sympathy surpasses, and suddenly he’s angry. _They’ve made him think I’m dead, those bastards! I’m going to kill them! Every last one of them!_

**_“Logan, please, consider this. They left you alone. You remember the helicopter. You remember how the light found you, but the helicopter didn’t descend. Don’t you remember how much it hurt? Don’t you remember how they didn’t come and find you? Don’t you remember how they abandoned you? The Federation won’t ever do that to you! But Rorke...he will pay. In good time.”_ **

In those few seconds, he really does think about it, because he _does_ remember. One of the forgotten days, where the hope had died out, where he’d believed that they’d forsaken him, if only for a moment.

It’d hurt, but then he’d risen from the ashes.

And it was there where he’d pledged that he’d never lose hope. Never again.

 _“ Ghosts don’t break._” A whisper in the back of his head, and he listens on. “ _A Ghost never quits._ ”

“ _Welcome to the Ghosts._ ”

That’s what snaps his out of it, and, as Rorke completely shuts down Heshs’ very flawed protests, he feels himself getting dragged away.

And, as he passed Keegans’ chair, he doesn’t even think twice.

_You or them?_

He lifts his injured arm and presses the handle into the medics’ bound hands.

His arm flops to the floor, and he closes his eyes as they drag him away, feeling the Ghosts’ gaze on him the whole way.

“Now that I’ve shut you up, I can focus on the real task.” Rorkes’ voice is the last thing he hears as they exit the room.

And it’s there where Logan makes a vowel.

_I’ll find you, guys. I promise I’ll find you again._


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again! Enjoy a 10,000 word chapter! Especially you, HeshGhost!

**_ Chapter 20: _ **

_Logan’s alive._ Hesh had stood there for a moment, frozen, eyes wide, mouth agape, before the words finally registered. _Oh my god, Logan’s_ alive _._

But the relief is short-lived, because then that fire erupts and he’s suddenly yelling at Keegan, thinking _why did you do that to me do you know how_ painful _that was-_

Keegan’s voice suddenly thunders down, unrelenting, silencing Hesh as he stares, eyes wide. Keegan barely speaks, let alone _yells_. “I didn’t want Rorke to know!” As Hesh continues to stare, the medic continues. “If I hadn’t done that, Logan would be dead! If I had told you, Rorke would have noticed!” He goes quiet, looking down, and Merrick’s the first to recover.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, and Hesh can’t help but hear Rorke’s voice ring in his head. _‘If you make it out of this one, come find me. Logan will be waiting.’_

Hesh winces, because he knows. _God damnit, he-_

“Knows. Rorke _knows_.” Hesh answers for the medic, voice pained in response to his churning gut, and his team stare at him for a minute.

But then Keegan’s free hand is on his shoulder, Merrick readies his AK-12, and Kick growls. “Let’s get him back, then.”

/ / /

“How did you know?”

“That ‘miracle drug’ Keegan used may slow your pulse, but it doesn’t stop the blood flow.”

/ / /

Armed and ready, the four Ghosts barge through the door and out into the corridor, shooting the throng of Federation charging down the hallway.

It was a quick fight; the grenade Hesh had grabbed off the dead guard had been thrown the second the door had burst open, and now, before the tangos have a chance to fire their weapons, it explodes with a loud ‘bang’.

It sends most of the dozen Federation soldiers flying, others burning alive, and some unlucky ones screeching as their limbs tear off their bodies.

The Ghosts made quick work of those still alive, giving them a merciful death ( _not that they deserve them_ , Hesh thinks bitterly), before quickly making their way down the corridor, Hesh and Kick grabbing another weapon and holstering their secondary weapons.

“We need to be quick,” Hesh urges, “or they’ll take Logan away!”

Now with a Remington R5 clutched in his clammy hands, the curdling in Hesh’s stomach eases a bit.

Maybe, just maybe, they’ll save Logan.

And hopefully end Rorkes’ life once and for all.

“We should make our way to the top! Knowing Rorke, he’ll be waiting for a chopper.” Merrick supplies, and Keegan chips in, holding his Honey Badger with white knuckles.

“He would have shut the elevator down by now; it’ll be faster if we head straight for the stairs.”

Kick groans, muttering something about the how elevator could be working, but otherwise there isn’t any serious objections. “Sounds like a plan.” Hesh agrees, before taking the lead through the halls, not stopping at any corner.

Any second lost, and his brother could be taken away.

And he’s not going to lose his brother. Not again. Not _ever_ again.

Not if he can help it.

Screw precaution. Last time they’d at least _tried_ to take their time in a situation like this was in Las Vegas, and they’d been so boxed in by Federation goons and their canisters of _something_ that they’d all had to jump out of a lopsided window.

The long slide and fall to the bottom was not welcome, and Hesh wasn’t the one who had the hardest fall (it was Logan, and _god_ , only afterwards they’d realised he’d almost broken his ankle. And the worst part was, he didn’t feel a thing).

Funny thing is, Merrick isn’t yelling at him to _‘slow the fuck down’_. Neither is Keegan, the quiet bastard, and Kick seems just as content with their current plan, even with his unfavoured weapon, a Bulldog, in hand.

Wincing – because _fuck_ , why did Kick pick _that_ up? – Hesh slows down and snatches the shotgun off of him, shoving the Remington R5 into his sweaty hands, giving him a pointed look. “You’re shit with shotguns, Kick.”

The Ghost reels back, offended. “What? I’m _satisfactory_ with a shotgun. That counts as _something_.”

Hesh’s next words hit home. “Not now it doesn’t.”

He doesn’t even wait to see Kick’s face; he’s back at the front of the pack, turning another corner, and it’s when they turn the next that he sees the stairs.

And a dozen Federation goons standing in their way, on guard.

“Tangos!” He cries, pumping shells into the large mass of enemies.

Two go down at his early onslaught. Then another couple.

By the time they’re looking and ready to shoot, Hesh is out and he dives to the floor, giving his teammates an easier shot.

The tangos are down in less than a second. “Clear!” Keegan and Merrick yell together, and Hesh accepts the outstretched hand from Kick, the Ghost obviously trying not to smile.

“Nice move.” He chuckles, copying his flop upright, and Hesh shakes his head, snorting.

_We don’t have time for this._ His urgent mind warns, and his legs are quick to towards the stairwell, his hands quickly packing more shells into his shotgun.

He’s struggling to get air into his lungs, but that’s ok. His legs ache, but that’s ok. His head throbs, but that’s ok.

Because he’ll do anything for his brother. He’ll search every nook and cranny for him. He’ll fight a million battles for him. He’ll even _die_ for him, if it comes to that.

And if that doesn’t show how much he’s willing to risk – how much he _loves_ Logan – then he doesn’t know what will.

/ / /

Every time he closes his eyes, he sees the same thing.

Bald head. Pine green eyes. Two star tattoos inked below the back of his right arm. And, on occasion, war paint brushed on his face.

_ “We’ve got this, Logan. We’re going to take him down.” _

He squeezes his eyes shut.

_Now would be a good time, Hesh._

/ / /

They are stuck in the stairwell, of all places.

_The Feds have gotten smarter,_ Hesh thinks, back pressed against the nearest wall, narrowly missing a throng of bullets aimed at his feet. _They knew we’d come this way. Rorke_ knew _._

_And now they’ll try and box us in._

His shotgun doesn’t work so well here. Made for short range combat, trying to pump a shell into a guy over ten metres above you isn’t an easy feat, especially since the fragments spread apart.

Hesh sticks with his lousy pistol, moving forward and shooting at one of the many tangos above him, hitting the Fed in the head, blood splattering the wall behind him.

_One down, countless more to go._

He growls. “At this rate, we’ll never get to Logan in time!” Hesh yells above the gunfire, swapping to his shotgun.

Merrick, from his spot on the stairs a few metres behind him, gives him a strange look, before noticing the shotgun in his hands, eyes widening. “Hesh, don’t! You’ll get yourself killed!”

Hesh gives him a cold, grim look. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

And then he’s running up the staircase, ignoring Merrick cry out his name, bullets flying around him.

He pumps a shell into the tango now across from him, then shoots another beside the previous Fed, the shell going through their body and hitting the one behind them.

The three remaining tangos turn towards him and lift their weapons.

_Too late!_ He uses the recoil to quickly move and fire at the three Feds, and he sighs in relief as the three men fall to the ground in unison, all shot in the stomach.

“Damn, that was close.” He mutters. “Clear!” He yells, before reaching and grabbing an AK-12 from one of the dead men, chucking his pistol away.

_Yeah, that’s much better._ He gives his previous weapon a foul look, a childish thought crawling to the front of his overly occupied mind. _Pistol, you suck!_

“Hesh!” Merrick yells, stomping up the steps. “What were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed!”

Hesh snorts, crossing his arms (which proves to be just a _tad_ bit difficult with an assault rifle in hand). “I was _thinking_ Rorke would be long gone before we even made it up this damn stairwell! And that means Logan would be gone, too! I’m not going to lose him again, Merrick, so don’t even ask me to slow down!” He snaps, spinning around to continue, but a hand lands on his shoulder, halting him.

“You won’t be any good to anyone if you’re dead, Hesh. Just try not to be too reckless.” Merrick asks calmly, and Hesh smirks.

“Yes, boss.” He ignores Kicks’ gasp, along with a, “Woah! Hesh just did a me!” and moves up, his aching legs working hard as he charges up the steps.

_If we don’t reach the top soon, we’ll be stuck in another stairwell battle, and I don’t feel like having another close call._

Throwing the AK-12 across his back, Hesh handles and reloads his shotgun with expert speed, gritting his teeth at the five or so shells left in his hand.

_Not much left, now. I should be careful with how I use this._

He reaches the door to the roof in under a minute, and frowns at the lack of noise. _If Rorke wanted to escape by air, he’d have a helicopter up here and ready by now._

He hears footsteps behind him and turns his head, meeting Merricks’ gaze.

“Something’s not right.” Hesh says, and his leader nods.

“I agree. But we should check all the same. The helicopter may still be coming.” Hesh frowns at him, knowing the likelihood of that being nearly non-existent, before shrugging.

_Only one way to find out._

Hesh counts to three before kicking the door down, light assaulting his eyes.

/ / /

If he reflects back on his life (one still covered in black holes), he’ll find that it isn’t all sunshine and rainbows.

There is happiness with Hesh and his dad. There is one sad, shady memory of his mother. There is stress and frustration with school. There is fear when ODIN struck San Diego. There is determination when he went through training course after training course (and assignments (only one that he remembers) where it was just he and Hesh left to survive out in the wilderness for a whole week). There is numbness when he made his first kill. There is pride when he is promoted to sergeant. Then there are the fuzzy memories of when he met the Ghosts and onwards, where a mixture of feelings pester him.

But they’re just emotions. The memories aren’t quite memories yet. Just echoing voices and deep integrated feelings that feel like punches to the gut.

He knows what the emotions are for. He just can’t picture what happened or the scenery or how long ago it was.

It’s hard, trying to pick up the pieces of your former life. But he can do it. He _knows_ he can do it.

All that matters is Hesh and the others finding him, because if they don’t, his memories will be the least of his problems.

/ / /

There’s nothing on the roof. No helicopters, no tangos, no waiting traps.

There’s nothing...save for a Fluro orange note in the middle of the Helipad.

Hesh cautiously walks over and picks up the note, reading over the sentence.

_“You’d better hurry; Logan doesn’t have much time left...”_

Hesh growls, crumpling the note and throwing it away from him, only have it fly back towards him and into Keegan, who grabs the note. He reads it out loud, Hesh bristling.

_Oh, when I get my hands on that motherfucker..._

“I’m going to kill him.” He declares, spinning around to face his team, face morphed into a snarl.

Merrick shakes his head. “Not today. Today is about finding Logan, and he’s not here.” He shakes his head again, rubbing a hand over his face. “Anyone got a clue?”

_He could be anywhere in the building by now._ Hesh sighs. _Maybe the control room? I don’t know... I just hope they aren’t out of the building yet._

Hesh frowns. _Rorke likes to make himself known. I wonder..._

“I think he’s in the control room.” Merrick nods.

“Of course. He likes to taunt us whenever he can. I bet he’s trying to make us think he’s down below, trying to escape, when he’s actually still be up here.” He nods at Hesh again. “Good thinking.”

Keegan purses his lips, Honey Badger clutched tightly to his chest, eyeing the open door warily. “Or he wants us to think that way.”

_If he’d doing that, then it’s working._ He thinks, gritting his teeth. _Damn Rorke and his mind games! I just want my brother back! Why can’t they just let him go?_ He shakes his head. _I’ll get him back. And I have a feeling I know exactly where he is._

“He’s in the control room,” Hesh continues at their uncertain glances, “I can feel it.”

The three Ghosts across from him glace at each other once again. “You sure about this? If you’re wrong-” Hesh cuts Keegan off.

“No, I know he’s in there. I’m positive.”

Merrick hums, head rocking to the side in his disapproval. “Alright,” he relents, frowning. “Lead the way.”

Hesh exits the rooftop with a ( _slightly_ ) cocky smile.

/ / /

He wonders, if only for a moment, what his purpose in life really was.

He had to have a motive for becoming a soldier. Something that drove him towards that career. But...what?

Did he want to fight for his country? Yeah, that’s likely. He probably wouldn’t have done it otherwise. Was he in it for revenge? _No_. _That doesn’t sound right. That’s..._ later _._

Was it so he could follow...follow his... _brother_?

The thoughts and the feelings that bombards him from just thinking that are overwhelming, and he doesn’t have to be a genius to figure that’s his answer.

_If that’s it...what_ changed _?_

Something had changed. Something happened somewhere between now and five years ago. Something that created a darkness. A desire for revenge. A... _monster_ of sorts.

_No_. That...that was _later_. That was when he was stuck in the hole. Was it created _inside_ that horrible prison, or _before_?

Too many questions, so little answers. Maybe later, when he’s safe and free and alive, he can think of these things.

Right now, he needs to focus on escaping.

_Come on, Hesh. I know you’re close. I can_ feel _it._

/ / /

Hesh peeks around the corner, his gaze moving along the dozen Feds stationed down the hallway, eyeing the entrance to the control centre, griping his AK-12 so tight his fists are white.

He turns away from the crowded hallway and back to the Ghosts, all huddled up against the wall beside him. “This has got to be it!” He whispers harshly, fidgeting in anticipation. “There’s a dozen Feds down _this_ hallway; they’ve _got_ to be in there!”

Kick, at the back of the pack, shrugs, while Keegan and Merrick share another uncertain look. “What if it’s a trap?” The pessimistic Ghost asks, and Hesh almost groans.

_Keegan, could you just, I don’t know,_ trust _me? For one moment?_ Please _?_ He thinks, almost voicing his thoughts.

Instead, he stands taller, moving an inch from the wall to give Keegan, in front of Kick, a serious look. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Merrick nods. “Anyone got a frag?” He asks, Kick perking up behind Keegan.

“Yeah! Picked one up just before; we going to use it now?”

Hesh smirks dangerously. _Hell yeah!_ “Oh, we’re going to use it alright.” Flicking his hand towards himself, Kick gets the message and chucks the dormant grenade with pinpoint accuracy, Hesh not even having to move his hand to catch it.

He winks at the Ghosts, before putting up his fist, counting down from three.

_Time to die, you fuckers._ He thinks as he goes down to two, then one, then closes his fist again.

_Action!_ He pulls the pin and holds it for a second, before rolling it down the hallway.

A few unsuspecting tangos cry out, but by then it’s too late.

The grenade explodes, mingling with a few enemy screams, and that’s when Hesh emerges from their temporary shelter.

Blood and guts on the wall, the most centring where the black spots in the middle of the hallway were. Hesh spots three lone legs scattered around the corridor, along with a few survivors towards the end of the walkway. There doesn’t appear to be any Feds left unscathed; a good, balanced throw, then.

However, some are still alive, most unconscious, but a few crying to the heavens. They make quick work of those that are still awake, and Hesh can hear the hushed cries in Spanish originating behind the blood-splattered door, only tiny flecks of blue showing the original colour.

He spares a glance around the blood-splattered hallway once more, gut clenching in anticipation. _Logan, I know you’re here! I’m going to save you, I promise!_

“Okay,” Merrick murmurs, tapping his shoulder, “they know we’re here. We need to play this well.” He nods to the door, gritting his teeth. “Stack up…and watch where you’re shooting.” Merrick adds, and Hesh smiles lightly.

No, they don’t want to hit his already injured brother ( _if he’s even in there_ ).

The four Ghosts pair up on both sides of the wall, Merrick in front of the left side, accompanied by Keegan, and Hesh in front of the right, Kick’s breath tickling his neck.

Merrick holds his hand much like Hesh did earlier, the other holding a flashbang, and he waits with bared breath as he counts down from three.

_We’re here, Logan! We’re going to rescue you, then we’re going to kill Rorke! Mark my words…_

Merrick shakes his hand as he reaches zero, and he leads the charge, opening the door slightly, throwing the flashbang through the small gap just as bullets try to penetrate the thick metal. Their leader barely closes the door before Hesh hears the familiar tune of a successful eruption, seeing the bright light from underneath the door. Merrick leads the charge as he swings the door open, all four Ghosts entering with their guns raised.

/// //// //// //// ///

**_Logan Walker_ **

/// //// //// //// ///

Logan sees the flashbang enter the room just as some of the Feds around him scream the word in Spanish. He has enough time to squeeze his eyes shut and turn his head away from the blast just as the canaster explodes to life, the sound erupting so close his ears ring in response.

He opens his eyes, grimacing at the amount of light that still managed to seep through his flimsy protection, looking in front of him as he watches shadowy figures emerge from the door before him, the flashes erupting from their weapons making his head spin.

_ “I’m proud of you, Logan.” _

His fathers’ voice echoes through his head, and for a moment the mental pain is worse than the rubbing rope binding his hands behind him – worse than the treated bullet wounds; worse than the pounding his head promised to continue ever since he’d woken up to Rorke’s wicked smile.

But then it isn’t, the horrible feeling from after that hellish day vanishing like the ghost it is.

It’s better that way, though; he needs to focus on getting out of here, and now that he’s got his friends – _family_ – here to help him, the once impossible job now feels _possible_.  

Logan smiles inwardly at the thought, trying to watch what’s happening with his limited vision, his ears still out of commission.

The black shapes beside him are falling like flies, and Logan blinks as the dozen Feds in the room all fall, vision now allowing the shapes to look more like bloody figures.

And the intruding figures to look more like the men he’s grown to know over the last few weeks ( _years_ , he corrects himself. _It’s been years, despite not seeing them for one_ ).

He blinks slowly again, half-blinded gaze meeting Hesh’s. _My_ brothers _gaze._

He gives him a small smile as Hesh stands there, staring at him as the other Ghosts yell “clear”, ringing ears faded enough to hear himself. “Did you really have to throw that?” He whines from his position on the floor, legs underneath him. “Because it really didn’t help my headache.”

That seems to snap Hesh – David, _but he prefers Hesh_ – out of his daze, because then he’s racing towards him, sliding to the floor as his arms envelope him, gun having been discarded in his wild dash. “Logan!” The words are slightly muffled, but he hears them just fine.

Placing his head in the crook of _his brothers’_ neck, Logan’s hands itch to be free. He doesn’t have to wait long, for Hesh notices and, knife already in hand, moves around him, cutting off the bonds.

He gets back to hugging almost immediately, Logan feeling Hesh’s body shake lightly, repressed. “I…I thought I lost you.” He whispers, and the previously captured Ghost rubs his brothers’ back in soothing circles, his eyesight slowly returning.

“It’s okay. I’m here. I’m alive. You don’t have to worry anymore, David.” He murmurs into his ear, falling forward when Hesh scoots backwards, wet eyes wide.

Logan narrows his eyes, slowly adjusting his position on the floor so he’s sitting on his ass. “You okay? I didn’t say anything wrong, did I?” Then he thinks back on what he said, suddenly realising with a jolt. “Oh, oh shit. I-I-I’m sorry, I know you prefer Hesh, but I’ve been having trouble keeping track of what’s happened when and-” he cuts himself off as a particularly nasty throb racks his brain.

_ “You look lost.” _

_ “We’re not lost. We were looking for you, Captain Merrick.” _

He rubs his forehead, feeling a confusingly low amount of determination fill him. _When did_ that _happen?_

A hand on his shoulder brings him back. Logan snaps his head to meet Keegan’s eyes, the medic crouching to be on an equal eye level. “You okay?” Logan blinks a few times, ringing ears having subsided in his absence, Keegan frowning worriedly. “You spaced out for a minute there.”

His arm hurts and his leg aches. His head pounds and his ribs scream at every breath.

Yeah. He’s just peachy.

He almost says just that, but he knows the situation is too serious to be a sarcastic dick. Too serious for his mind; one that’s more lost than he’s ever going to admit. “No.” He shakes his head, finding Hesh’s hazel eyes. “I’m not okay.”

There’s silence, for a few moments. Logan runs a hand through his short hair, brown strands running through his fingers as his hand moves along.

His head pounds. _“You look so much like your mother.”_

Grief suddenly tears through his heart, and he bends over himself with a gasp, tears prickling at his eyes as the emotional agony outweighs all the physical pain. 

If he thinks hard, he can picture her. In the backyard, swinging him around, long brown hair flowing around her like an angel. Beautiful caramel skin from being outdoors every day. Small nose, wonderful smile, and gorgeous hazel eyes.

It hurts more when he thinks that’s the only clear picture he has before a fierce cancer claimed her life.   

But how _old_ was he when she died? Young. He…he must have been young, to only have one stray memory. A toddler, maybe?

“Logan, what’s wrong?” Hesh’s voice flutters through, and Logan answers blindly, still being attacked by the out-of-place grief.

“Mom was so beautiful.” He manages to catch on and stop himself before saying anything related to _her_ , letting out a groan as he holds his head in his hands. “Dammit, I can’t-”

_ Hey, if you make it out of this, kid, come find me! There's always room for one more! _

He can almost smell the smoke as he sees a flash of a destroyed plane high in the air, Rorke protected by four Feds swinging their guns around, anger filling him as the Ghost Killer zips into a plane overhead.

The anger sticks with him even as he’s taken back into the present, and he growls as he thinks back on the limited amount he remembers about the man, the anger turning into a swirling fire of _rage_.

_He killed my dad. He took me away from my brother. He created a **monster** out of me!_

“Logan, stop!” This time it’s Keegan who speaks, rubbing his left wrist. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

It’s then that he realises his hands are clenched so hard his knuckles are white, and he slowly opens his palm, seeing that his short fingernails had left deep dents in his hand, his nails fortunately not long enough to draw blood.

He takes deep breaths as he tries to calm himself down, meeting Hesh’s concerned gaze once he’s relaxes his tense shoulders. “Sorry, it’s been happening ever since I woke up on that table.”

A movement to his right startles him, finding Merrick crouched next to him, weapon down as he narrows his eyes in thought. “What has?”

“Ghosts of different memories.” He supplies, looking up as he hears a snort, finding Kick by the doorway, looking back at him. He smirks. “Haha, very funny Kick.” He shakes his head as he himself snorts at the older man’s antiques, turning back to look at Hesh, who sports a knowing smile. “I hear voices first, and depending on the situation, I get a burst of emotion.” He holds up his palm, indents still clear as day. “That’s what rage does.”

His brother – _brother!_ – frowns, eyes narrowing. “Is that what’s supposed to happen?”

“It’s like that for some amnesiac people…I think.” Logan smiles when Hesh gives him a look. “What? I’m not an expert, you know!”

_Yeah, and I’m not an expert in hand-to-hand combat!_ His smile wipes off his face at the odd thought. _Was that…sarcasm? But…I’m_ not _good at hand-to-hand combat…_

A hand lands on his shoulder, Logan snapping his head up to look at the culprit. “We should get moving,” Merrick advises, nodding towards the door. “I’m willing to bet they’re a load of Feds coming our way.”

Logan nods back and slowly stands, grimacing as agony washes through him at the simple movement, quickly grabbing one of the desks to keep himself upright.

“You need help?” Keegan moves over to him, and instead of declining and acting tough, he gratefully accepts the offer, draping his right arm over the medics’ neck before making their way towards the door, Logan panting as his chest screams with every movement.

“When we get out of here,” Logan begins, taking another shaky breath as they stop by the door, “I’m going to hibernate.”

_If only to escape this pain._ He thinks, and his body tingles as he receives a few chuckles.

“I may join you on that one, Logan.” Hesh agrees, winking with fun.

“Count me in!” Kick cries, putting his thumb up in agreement.  

Logan sees Keegan crack a smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

Merrick frowns in playfulness. “What? Are you telling me that I’m going to have to lug all your asses to base on my own?”

Kick smirks. “Yep!”

Logan grins. “If you’re offering.”

Hesh and Keegan only smile, and Merrick groans as he looks at Logan, faking despair. “Oh no. The cheek twins are back.” Despite his tone, Logan watches as he gives Keegan and Hesh a relieved – _hopeful_ – look.

And Logan can’t help but feel like he’s on the right track in finding out just who he used to be.

“Alright, that’s enough fun.” Merrick orders, turning towards the door. “Let’s get out of here.” He walks through the door, scanning the area. “Clear!”

Kick walks through next, Keegan and Logan squeezing through second, then finally Hesh, who seems happy with taking the rear.

_This is wrong. I’m usually the one who follows._ He frowns. _Wait, what?_

“Logan, I was wondering…” Keegan begins as they start the slow trek through the hallway, shivering as he comes into tune with his surroundings after the troubled thought, finding multiple body parts of Feds – _no doubt from that grenade from earlier_ – painting the walkway red. “Where’s Rorke? We thought he’d be with you, but…” He leaves his sentence hanging, Logan instantly understanding.

_Of course. Keegan knew I was alive, and after that…well, I’m guessing they found out that Rorke knew, too._ He thinks back on the Ghost Killer, and how, after he’d fallen unconscious on drag through the hallways, woken up to find Rorke waiting for him. And willing to tell him his plan because _he wanted the Ghosts to know he’d outsmarted them._

“He’s either waiting for a car outside, or already long gone.” Keegan’s eyebrows furrowed. “He used me as a distraction to get out of here. Told me he wanted all of you to know that he bested you.” Logan shrugged. “The bastard played his cards well…” He smirked. “If only a little cowardly.”

Keegan grins at that. “Yeah. Just a little.”

Silence descends on the group like the plague. Logan can’t stop twitching because something is niggling its way into his pounding brain. Something he understands and can’t help but address after a minute of unwavering pestering.

“Hesh, uh…” He blinks, wondering if this is a bad idea. But then the tingling that envelops his whole being tells him otherwise. “I need you to move in front of me.”

He winces as Keegan eyes him with furrowed brows, Kick turning his head to give him the same look. But he won’t back down. He just wants to rid himself of this unease he can’t seem to shake. “Please?” He pathetically asks, and he watches Keegan look to his free hand, obviously spotting his twitching fingers.

“Hesh, why don’t you take Logan for a while? I’ll take up the rear.” Keegan slows to a stop, Logan glad for the short break; his chest is killing him!

“Sure.” Hesh finally agrees, and Keegan gets Logan propped against the wall, moving away as Hesh comes forward, Logan wrapping an arm around his brothers’ neck as said brother opens his arm up to let him in.

Soon, they’re back on the move, the uneasy feeling calm now that David – _Hesh_ – is by his side.

Hesh casts a few unsubtle looks his way, opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish. Finally taking initiative at his brother’s avoidance, Logan speaks. “What’s up?”

He blinks at his question, still floundering for an answer. “I, uhh…I just…” And, just like that, the answer rockets into him. What Hesh wants to ask hits him with sudden clarity, and Logan smiles.

“Hesh.” As Hesh stops his incoherent mumbles and turns to face him, _– with hopeful eyes_ – Logan continues. “I know.” He pauses as his smile widens, the older Ghost holding his breath. “You’re my brother.”

Everything stops in the following moment.

Hesh stops walking ( _everyone does_ , he notes subconsciously), and Logan grunts as he takes another unsupported step, a burning twinge starting at his supported arm and running along that side of his body and all the way down to his right foot.

He’s briefly immobilised by the agony that hits him as he bends over to try and stifle the pain, only to further agitate it as his ribs scream in protest. He gasps and, as he pulls his arm off Hesh’s shoulders, his legs buckle, leading him to slamming his ass into the floor and, as if a punishment, his back as he tries to straighten and loses his balance.

It all happens in the span of two seconds. Two agonisingly _slow_ seconds.

Kick, who happened to turn around the moment he heard ‘brother’, stares at him for a moment, gobsmacked, before bursting out into laughter. “Wha…how does that even happen?” He gestures at Logan’s prone form, who lies on his side, staring at him with an unimpressed look through his agony.

_Asshole._

He groans in response, trying to rid himself of a laugh threatening to bubble out of his chest. _He’s right, though. How didn’t I fall forward?_

He doesn’t have time to answer the pointless question because, as he looks at Merrick, who’s turned towards him in his few seconds of ‘relaxation’ on the floor, he spots a slight movement behind him.

“Your six!” He yells at their leader, gasping and squeezing his eyes shut as his ribs cry at the sudden movement, his arms wrapping around his midsection in a futile attempt to stifle the agony.

Gunfire echoes around him as he lies on the cold floor, seemingly in his own bubble as he tries to rid himself of this terrible pain, inhaling and exhaling short, gasping breaths.

Tears prick at his eyes as the fire slowly but surely begins to subside, left hand making a futile attempt at digging into the floor.

_Distract. Distract..._ He lets out a chocked sob as his ribs cry out for attention, biting his lip hard as tears roll down his face. _Stop…please, just_ stop _!_

“Hey!” A faraway voice cries from above, and Logan opens his eyes in a daze, Hesh’s pine green eyes hovering above him, cool hands wrapped in his right hand. “Logan, are you okay?”

He gives him a small, pained grin. “What…do you think?” He snarks in between gasps, closing his eyes tight as his shoulder pinches again, sending flames down his right side once again.

“Logan, we need to move, stat.” As the former prisoner opens his eyes again, he sees Hesh giving him a pained look of his own.

_Moving, huh?_ He thinks. _That sounds amazing!_ Despite his sarcastic line of thought, Logan tries for him.

He gets halfway into a sitting position before he falls back, letting out short, pained moans. “Ah, shit.” He groans, ribs crying out their displeasure. “I-I can’t.” He eyes Hesh apologetically, spotting Keegan walking over, Merrick and Kick still covering them with a hail of bullets. “I’m sorry, but…I can’t.”

“We’ll have to carry you, then.” Keegan bluntly states, giving Hesh a look as he glares at the medic. “We can’t stay here and wait for him to get his bearings, Hesh. We need to move _now_.”

They stare at each other.

Logan stares at them, watching their silent conversation, neither close to relenting. _If they keep this up, we’re going to get caught._ He bites his lip. _I_ must _do this._

“Pick me up, then.” He decides before he can pull back on it, gritting his teeth. “Do it before I change my mind.”

Keegan and Hesh share a look, his older brother giving him a glare. “Let me.” Keegan raises his hands in surrender before turning back to the fight, firing a round of bullets into the Feds beyond. “You sure about this?” He asks him, hand landing on his stomach, worry shining in his eyes.

“Yeah.” He replies quietly, chewing on his aching lip. There’s no movement from the Ghost, and he gives Hesh a glare, growling. “Just do it, Hesh!”

And he does. He grabs his back and pulls him onto his shoulder, his ribs landing hard on his shoulder.

Agony flashes through him in one huge tsunami and, after letting out a choked scream, he succumbs to the empty blackness almost immediately.

/ / /

_He’s underwater. That’s the first thing that registers in his hazy mind. The next is that he’s seen this somewhere before._

_The final thing is what’s happening._

_His oxygen tube is in front of him, swishing around wildly, and Keegan’s talking to him. He starts to breathe harder, because why-_

_He can’t breathe._

_He tries to move his arms, but quickly notices that they’re stuck underneath some debris from the missile._

_He turns to his right arm, twisting and turning and pushing in every attempt to dislodge it and help save his life. It proves to be a fluke attempt, blood being his only purchase, fire racing up his arm._

_Underneath the helmet, he breathes desperately, seeking the very air he’s craving._

_He focuses on staying alive as Keegan swims into his vision, water beginning to fill his mouth as oxygen fails to fill his tank._

_“Stay with me!” Keegan demands, quickly grabbing his tube and, just as he feels like he’s about to pass out, stuffs it into his mask._

_He breathes._

/ / /

He slowly opens his eyes in a daze, vision blurry as the world shifts and jumps up and down, the pain shrouding him in a dense fog making all areas of his body numb.

He hears loud words, ones that don’t make sense to his ears, and his eyes start to close as exhaustion seeps into his bones.

Fuzzy, white walls are the last thing his fading eyesight sees before he falls back into unconsciousness.

/ / /

_“He killed him, Logan!” Hesh cries, hand in his hair as he stops pacing his room, eyes bloodshot. “Rorke killed dad and he’s…he’s not coming back.”_

_Logan grits his teeth. “I know that, Hesh.” He says quietly, looking at the floor._

_Hands fall hard on his shoulders and he looks up as they grip him, angry pine green eyes boring into his soul. “Then why aren’t you grieving?” He yells, the words making Logan wince. “You haven’t cried or yelled or anything! It’s…” He shakes his head and looks at the ground, heat falling from his words as his hands fall of his shoulders. “It’s almost like you don’t feel a thing.”_

_Logan looks at the floor blankly before giving Hesh a tired look. “That’s because I don’t.”_

/ / /

He slowly opens his eyes to fuzzy, but unmoving, surroundings.

He blinks, his brain still trying to make sense of what’s happening.

He’s on the floor. A white floor, with white walls. Someone’s in front of him, hands slowly raising into the air.

_Hesh._ His mind supplies and he blinks again, finding another figure beyond the other, an assault rifle pointing at the person a hands length from him.

_Hostile._ He blinks again, looking to the left to find a discarded pistol in front of him, the person it belonged to lying against the wall, dead. _Hesh…needs help._

He grabs the pistol without much thought, pushing it into shaky hands as he lifts them, eyesight fading in and out as pain grips his prickling arms, mind still trying to catch up on what’s happening.

He doesn’t let it as the man with the gun grins savagely, unaware of his watching assassin. _He’s going to-_

Logan steadies his arms and fires, hitting the tango in the head.

His limbs drop to the floor as his weary body lets exhaustion hit it.

“Logan…” Hesh murmurs looking down at him.

“Got him.” He whispers, giving him a crooked smile before closing his eyes once more.

/ / /

_Images swirl around his head, voices mingling to create a storm of events he doesn’t understand._

_He’s tired. “Sorry I didn’t wake you. Thought you could use the sleep.”_

_He’s breathing. “Let’s get this shit off you.”_

“Logan.”

_He’s sceptical. “He knew you would come.”_

_He’s shocked. “Merrick, the data we just grabbed…it contains kill estimates.”_

_He’s determined. “Push forward! They’re falling back!”_

“Logan…”

_He’s panicking. “I’m proud of you, son.”_

_He’s angry. “Merrick, we've gotta go after him! I want Rorke!”_

“Come on, Logan.”

_He’s hungry. “You’re stubborn, kid. Just like your father.”_

_He’s hurting. “Shit, you’re bleeding!”_

_He’s…he’s…_

“Wake up.”

/ / /

“Logan.” Someone’s shaking him. “Logan, come on.” Pin pricks race up his body as hands shake his shoulders again, most pooling around his ribs. “You need to get up.” He slowly opens his eyes, vision waving as he focuses on a dirty face in front of him, pine green eyes shining lightly as he spots his hazel. “We can’t get out of here without you.”

Once he says those last words, his daze shatters and the word snaps into focus.

He’s lying on the dirt floor behind an armoured jeep, bullets flying around them, the sound piercing his eardrums. Merrick is firing to their left and Kick and Keegan is just beyond them to the right, all Ghosts shooting anything that moves.

_We’re outside._ He realises suddenly, spotting a clear blue sky and the multiple trees beyond, littered with Feds. _But we’re under heavy fire._

He sits up without really registering it, and when the pain does hit he flinches, more out of shock than anything. He looks Hesh in the eye, an enemy AK-12 in his hands. “Painkillers?”

His brother smiles lightly. “Yeah. Managed to get to the infirmary on our way down.” He frowns. “Took a while to kick in, though.”

He nods absentmindedly. _A while…how long have I been out?_ He purses his lips. _It doesn’t matter. I need to focus._ He gives Hesh a small smile. “Have a gun I can use?”

His brother smiles back. “Yeah, I’ve got just the thing.”

He pulls a gun off his back.

Logan’s gut tingles painfully as he stares at the weapon.

_“Here, Logan.” His father says, holding a long box in his hands, red and white circles dotting the box, red bow completing the present. “Merry Christmas.”_

_He laughs, giving his smiling father a look. “I’m 26, dad. Don’t you think I’m a bit old for this?”_

_Elias pouts. “Aww, come on, son. Get into the Christmas spirit! You can’t be too old for this!”_

_He shakes his head, smiling. “Did Hesh get you up to this?”_

_His father holds a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “How could you say that? I have a present for him, too!” He points to another large box behind him, blue and white circles wrapping around the gift._

_He blinks. “Wow.” He grins after a moment, looking up at his dad’s sparkling brown eyes. “I can’t believe you remembered.”_

_Elias gives him a look. “Is it because you didn’t?”_

_He feigns a wince, staring at the ground. “Uhh…” He meets his father’s brown eyes, his grey eyebrows raising. “I totally…” He starts fishing around in his right back pocket, trying to be subtle. “Didn’t forget!” He exclaims as he finds it, ripping it out of his pocket and in front of his dad, placing it on the present in his hands._

_“Logan…” His eyes soften as he sees what the present is, expression twisting. “This…this is yours. Your mother-”_

_“Mom would want you to have it.” Logan interrupts, biting his lip. “It…it just sits around in my room without a purpose, so I thought about giving it some purpose.” He pushes it a bit closer to his father before pulling his hand away and squeezing it behind his back. “With you.”_

_“Logan…” Elias’ hands shake lightly as he pulls his gaze from the item, eyes watering. “If I accept this, you must keep this.”_

_Logan’s eyes narrow. He knows it’s something big, now. But…his dad needs this._

_“Okay.” He agrees, holding out his hands._

_His father places the long box into them, the weight almost catching him off-guard. “This is heavy!”_

_Elias smiles, quickly taking the wooden fountain pen off his present, rubbing his thumb against it._

_He knows he’s done the right thing._

_He smiles as he puts the box on the floor, hearing nothing that could give what it is away._

_He has his suspicions, though._

_“This isn’t what I think it is, right?” Logan asks, looking up at his still standing father, who’s clutching the pen to his chest._

_Elias shoos him, smiling. “Just open it, kiddo.”_

_He doesn’t need to be told twice. Not caring about the mess it’ll make, he rips the wrapping in half, tearing until the wooden box underneath is clear of the wrapping paper, now sitting under the wood._

_Small bold letters stand in the middle of the wood. **MADE IN CHINA.**_

_He grins._ This is…

_He practically lunges at the curved wooden handle before ripping it open._

_And there, in all it’s glory, lies a rusty red Maverick AR._

He feels tears prick at his eyes as his gut swells with emotion, slow to grab the weapon. _His_ weapon.

“Remember this?” Hesh asks, eyes shining hopefully.

“Oh, yeah.” Logan smirks, staring into his brother’s pine green eyes. “You bet I do.” He runs his hands up his old, treasured weapon, clicking off the safety, relishing the smooth surface for a moment before cocking his head at his brother. “Ready to kick some ass?”

David – _Hesh_ – grins. “Did you have to ask?”

He rises into a crouch, pain dull when comparing to the storm of emotions racing through his gut.

His brother turns away from him and starts shooting.

He grins, a dangerous glint in his eyes. _Time to repay them for their_ kindness _._

He leans out of their cover and, tingles shooting up his arms as he aims at a few heads sticking over their own car, fires.

The familiar _chuk-chuk-chuk_ of his weapon thrums in his ears, his arms automatically moving with the recoil pattern as he hits his targets, all three tangos falling backwards with a headshot.

He ducks back into cover just as bullets spray into his and Hesh’s cover, the projectiles _chinking_ off the sturdy metal.

He gives Hesh a look as he pulls into cover, a thought crossing his mind. “How much ammo do I have?”

He watches as a smile pulls at the corner of his brother’s lips. “Loads. Found a bunch of it stashed where you left your weapon.” He narrows his eyes playfully. “If anything, you seemed to be preparing for something like this.”

He smirks, memory of leaving it here for the last few missions hitting hard. “Yeah.” He mutters, trying to stay in the now, before smirking. “Must have been a paranoid bastard.”

Hesh grins. “Oh, yeah. Always talking about alien invasions and the ‘end of the world’.”

A full-blown smile graces his lips and, despite the urge to continue, doesn’t take the bait.

They’re in the middle of a battle, after all.

“We’re continuing this later.” He promises instead, Hesh handing him a bunch of ammo in a flash, winking at him.

Then he’s back to firing, and Logan can only think of how lucky he is to have him as his brother.

“Logan!” Kick cries out after he kills his seventh tango, ducking into cover as he looks towards the jokester Ghost, grin spread across his face. “You’re awake!”

“Yeah!” He yells over the gunfire, watching Kick nudge Keegan as he, too ducks into cover, meeting his hazel eyes. “Have been for a few minutes now!”

The medic taps Kick on the shoulder, whispering something in his ear. The joker frowns, sending a very quick wave in his direction before getting back to firing.

Logan gets the feeling he knows what Keegan demanded.

A small smile on his face, he reloads with expert speed, looking just beyond his cover to survey the field.

There’s not many left directly in front of them, just two tangos stationed behind a car and another three spread across the well-covered clearing. However, he knows there’ll have reinforcements on the way.

Which means they need to get to a car and get the hell out of here. Stat.

He aims at one of the Feds crouching behind a concrete slab as he finishes reloading, shooting him the moment he rises out of cover. He goes to aim at another rising Fed, but his shot is taken from him as they spin away from the car, dead.

“Clear!” Rings through the clearing as he searches and fails to find another target, slow to rise from his crouching position, stretching his sore limbs even though his side flares with discomfort.

_This is a luxury I won’t have soon._ He thinks bitterly. _All the more reason to make the most of it!_

He yawns. _Not that I’ll be getting much game time._

A hand on his shoulder has him turning, meeting his brother’s pine green eyes. “You okay?”

He shrugs, nodding. “As okay as I can be.” His gut churns as he gets a flash of red and green and gold; the Christmas tree they decorated as a family _…how long ago was that?_ _How_ old _am I?_

That information still succeeds to evade him.

“What’s up?” Hesh asks, noticing his strained expression.

“I’m getting flashes of the Christmas tree when I got this beauty.” He smiles as he looks at his signature weapon, shining in the afternoon light. “But I feel bitter about it…and I don’t know _why_.”

His brother’s face twists with emotion, hand falling off his shoulder, eyes downcast. He opens his mouth before closing it, looking away. “You need to find that answer yourself.” He replies distantly, before turning back to face his furrowed brows, nodding his head towards the other Ghosts converging a few metres away. “We should go talk to them.”

Logan falls into step beside them, ignoring the frustration bubbling in his gut. _With the way it’s nagging me, I’m sure I’ll find out soon._ He reasons, willing a small smile to his face as Kick waves them over enthusiastically. _For now, I should focus on getting to safety._ He watches Kick smack Merrick on the shoulder, pointing at them as his leader looks at him in annoyance. _And make sure all of us get out okay._

They reach the group a few seconds later, Merrick giving him a nod as he approaches. “Good to see you back on your feet, Logan.”

He grins in response, subconsciously rubbing his thumb along his Maverick AR. “It feels good to be back, Captain Merrick.” The words slip off his tongue and, as he realises what he just said, the world crumbs away.

_He’s on the dirt floor, a wolf trying to rip his throat out. He can’t focus on anything but the hungry fangs snapping greedily at his face, his hands gripping its muzzle as saliva splatters all over his dirty face._

_All he can hear is its vicious growls as it tries to get a taste of human flesh, his muscles screaming as the canine pushes until he’s within biting distance…_

_A bark. His peripheral vision notices a cream and black dog pelting at his attacker before the predator is knocked off him._

_He turns with the impact, the_ German Shepard _not recovering quick enough as the grey wolf pounces, ripping into_ his _dog’s flesh._

_His blood boils and he reaches for the gun above him, aiming as_ Riley _kicks the hungry animal off, shooting before it has a chance to go in for round two._

_Blood spurts. The wolf falls. Riley whimpers, quick to rise despite the limp he supports._

_Logan turns to face the wolves beyond._

Shit. _Is his first thought when he sees the growling wolf stalking towards him._

How many bullets are left in this magazine _? Is his last as the canine begins its sprint._

_He fires. He misses. He internally curses._

_He pulls the trigger again as it pounces, claws and fangs ready to tear him apart._

Empty. _He’s about to curse when a figure tackles the wolf, ducking and rolling like a pro as he flings the wolf away, scaring the hungry pack off with a few more bullets._

_He watches in awe._

_As his saviour turns, he finds a Ghost mask obscuring the bottom half his face, straps wrapping around his forehead with a mechanical device hanging beside his right ear._

_The Ghost reaches out a hand._

_He takes it._

_“You look lost.” A familiar voice jibes as he stands, watching him and his brother, who now stands beside him in a black beanie._

_Hesh steps forward. “We’re not lost.” He retorts, the words he heard earlier finally creating a picture. “We were looking for you, Captain Merrick.”_

He blinks and he’s back in the present.

His head throbs but all he can feel is a thick slab of satisfaction – for once, he’s not sure if it’s from then or now; _maybe both_? “So that’s how we met.” He chuckles, smile set on his face as he looks up at Merrick and Keegan, his leader giving him a small smile while the latter settles on a worried frown. Hesh just places a hand on his shoulder, and Kick – well, he’s not sure; he hasn’t seen that expression in…well, _ever_. In his mind, anyway.

“We need a car,” Merrick dismisses the unrelated comment after a few seconds, back on their main mission. “Preferably a Humvee. Can anyone see one that’s usable?”

Logan looks around.

Lots of blood and bodies are spread across the dirt floor. The few vehicles he can see are all on fire save for one, though that has flat tires and looks like it’s about to blow. The dark green of the forest surrounds them, making him feel vulnerable; they _are_ out in the open.

He turns back to his leader before the sick emotion triggers another (likely horrifying) memory, opening his mouth to give him his report.

A glint of shiny silver in the outskirts of the undergrowth catches his attention.

His gut lurches in warning; he doesn’t doubt it. “Get down!” He cries, turning and tackling Hesh to the hard floor, ribs jolting painfully at the impact as his brother’s knee drives itself into his stomach, leaving him winded.

He’s lucky it didn’t catch him higher, even if the painkillers would’ve taken the brunt of the blow.

The other three Ghosts drop to the floor immediately after. A second later has bullets flying where they once stood.

He rolls to get off his brother’s body so the struggle to get air back into his lungs will be a faster process.

That, and so he can fire back.

The next ten seconds blur around Logan as he breathes, focusing on the battle around him.

Locking eyes with a Fed in the process.

Even from this distance, he can see his features perfectly. Black skin, blue army suit and _those_ _cruel_ blue eyes.

He can almost see him laugh as he brings a taser to his wet chest.

He may not know his name, but he does know who he is.

_A dead man._

His kettle boils, lid not even trying to stay on, flying right off his inner control.

He’s up and firing at the Feds before he knows he’s got his weapon in his hands, fast-walking towards his demon.

“Logan!” A distant cry from Hesh goes through one ear and out the other as he takes down any Fed he sees taking a shot at him.

His weapon clicks when he goes to shoot the demon, Logan now close enough to see his wide eyes.

_Good. I wanted to kill him up close anyway._

The Fed turns and runs into the forest.

Logan sprints after him, placing his gun onto his back as he does so.

A chorus of cries chase him as he hits the undergrowth, louder than the bullets they fire.

His gut gives off fast, stabbing pains as his pace quickens. He follows the panting breaths of his prey. He snaps twigs and crunches leaves, jumps over a log and races through shrubbery.

The Fed won’t get far against his determination.

It’s when his limbs start to burn when he sees his demon ahead, dark blue suit pushing past a bush.

A growl replaces a pant, working his legs harder to catch his struggling prey.

He gains a metre.

The Fed looks backwards.

Logan pounces.

His demon yelps as his body carters into his, chest screaming at the impact.

The force of the blow sends them crashing into the dirt floor, both men rolling twice before stopping a metre from the other.

Logan groans, limbs crying out their distress, shoulder sore and bound to bruise. He looks up, seeing dark blue looking up at him.

His demon stares. Logan scrambles to his feet and screams a battle cry.

Blue only has time to get halfway upright before he slams a fist into his face, blood spurting from his nose as he’s sent onto his back, head colliding with the floor hard.

“You…You bastard!” Logan yells, kicking the Fed in the gut as he tries to get up, seething. “You took everything from me!” Blue rolls at the impact and he takes the chance to jump onto him, straddling the hopeless Fed as he coughs up blood. “My life…” He begins to punch him in the face, his hands numb at the now relentless result. “My dignity…” A flash of laughter as his demon strips him sends rage through him, punches faster as they dig into broken and bloody skin. “My _memories_ …” Logan pants heavily, hands finding rest by gripping onto Blue’s shoulders, leaning into his swollen face as he bares his teeth. “I hate you. I hate you so much…” He hangs his head.

He looks at the damage he’s done. Blue’s face is swollen, so much that his flesh is covering the entirety of his left eye. His skin is bloody and red, patches of untainted skin difficult to spot. His nose is bent in two different places, leaning precariously to the left – easily moveable by the looks of it. Blood dots the forest floor around them, those in the sunlight shining ruby red.

He feels no remorse – especially after all _he’s_ done to _him_.

“Logan!” A cry in the woods gets his attention, head leaving his captive for only a moment. He turns back to Blue.

He looks at a battered face. He grits his teeth, tightening his grip.

He wants revenge. He wants to kill him so slowly, let him drown in his own blood like he did to him…

_No._ A part of him disagrees, inwardly shaking their head. _Show him who you_ really _are._ His limbs tingle.  

He knows what to do.

“I don’t have long left, so I’ll give you the mercy you never showed me.” He finds the hilt of a knife in his belt, just too far for Blue’s hands to reach. He shifts a leg so his knee is pressing firmly on his right shoulder, his right hand grabbing the handle he couldn’t reach. “I remember what you told me,” he begins, unsheathing the knife. “That there’s ‘worse fates than death’.” He looks deep into his barely open right eye, cocking his head. “So, I’ll give you the choice you never gave me: a quick death, or hope your side finds you before you die of a brain bleed. Which is pretty painful if I remember correctly.”

His blue eye – now drowning in a sea of red, sparks with…confusion?

“Why?” He breathes in the thick American accent he knows, face twitching into something that looks like he’s raising his eyebrows.

“Because I’m nicer than you.” He replies warningly, twirling the knife in his hand. “Now make a decision before I decide to make it painful.”

A moment passes.

“Logan!” Hesh’s voice resounds much closer now.

They only have seconds.

His captive nods at the knife.

“I knew you would.” He says, raising the knife above his head.

“Thank you.” It’s a whisper but he catches It nonetheless as he brings the knife down.

A red eye closes in acceptance.

A rustle in the bushes alerts him to his brother’s presence.

A knife buries itself into Blue’s heart.

It strikes him that he didn’t even know his torturer’s name (but he knows the second’s – Sam – and he’s not going to let him die like this. It’ll be so much slower).

“Logan?” David’s voice is loud in the quiet of the forest, Logan looking up to see him standing stock still in front of a tree, staring at the murder scene with wide eyes.

_He doesn’t think you’re you._ He realises subconsciously as he looks back at the corpse beneath him.

Blue’s death…it didn’t really change a thing. He just feels…horribly numb. _Empty_.

His gut twists. _Will this be what our revenge against Rorke feels like?_

“Logan, is…is that you?” Hesh’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. He finally looks at him, trying to look apologetic but knowing his face isn’t creating the image.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He says, managing to slowly get to his feet despite his legs shaking like crazy, leaving the knife in Blue’s chest. “Did you find a car?”

Hesh reaches out, breath heavy as he looks at him with the same expression Kick made earlier. “Logan…” He tries again, hand almost touching him.

_He won’t drop it._

Logan grabs his wrist, narrowing his eyes into a cold stare. “Don’t.” He lets it go, looking away and closing his eyes for a moment. “Did you find a car?” He repeats when he looks back into his pine green eyes, voice much firmer than before.

Hesh narrows his eyes, staring at his face _– probably splattered with dry blood_ , he realises – as he purses his lips. Logan stares back, eyes cold and face blank.

David – _Hesh_ – looks away after a few seconds.

“I think so. I ran after you as soon as I could, but if these guys are here then there must be some mode of transport around.” He relents, warily looking into his eyes.

_He still doesn’t think it’s you._

For once, he doesn’t care (the thought that Rorke’s death may make him feel as empty as before digs deep into his stomach, the sickening hold enough to pull him away from any remorse he normally feels).

He nods. “Let’s go find them, then.” His chest pangs in beat with his heart as he manages to steadily walk past Hesh and into the undergrowth.

It won’t leave him. The thought that revenge will only leave them numb and empty is both horrifying and aggravating, leaving a thick, dark and angry cloud above his head.

So, to get away from the idea, he walks forwards. Towards the Ghosts. Towards the end of his distraction.

And towards the answers Hesh seeks.


End file.
